The Universe at Stake
by Michael Bradley-Robbins
Summary: When Samus Aran suddenly runs across a Covenant vessel, she is once again reunited with her own race and a new rival, The Master Chief, as she tries to uncover exactly what the Space Pirates and the Covenant are trying to do.
1. Welcome Aboard

Samus Aran was jarred from her sleep by a loud beeping coming from her gunship's mainframe computer. She sat up a bit too quickly and experienced a bout of lightheadedness, but quickly recovered enough to dash forward to the cockpit.

"Finally," she muttered. "You won't get away with this, Pirates."

She had been tracking a Space Pirate freighter for weeks on end. Though the manifest she had downloaded from the Pirates' database showed only rations and weapons, she knew better; this freighter was carrying several crates of Phazon to an undisclosed location. She had nearly eradicated the mutagen once and for all, almost losing her life many times in the process, and had made it her single goal in life to finish her mission, thereby saving the universe.

As she watched the freighter grow closer and closer on the radar screen, her ship suddenly went dark. She cursed the worn electrical system and felt her way to the wiring panel near the aft lavatory. One solid bang with her fist caused the lights to brighten enough for her to find her way back to her quarters and fetch her utility light, which she in turn brought back to the wiring panel.

"How many times will I have to do this before they'll fix this stupid thing?" she muttered as she turned off the power and found the soldering tool that was cleverly stashed near the bank of wires for just such emergencies. She quickly reattached the loose wires and restored power to the ship, and then made her way back to the cockpit after replacing all her tools. "Now I can get you guys for what you've done."

She still hadn't forgotten Tallon IV. The last remnants of her childhood and of the Chozo, crumbling before her very eyes as a result of the Space Pirates' abuse of the planet—it was a sight she had never been able to keep from her mind, even after the ordeal on Aether when she had first met her Phazon-corrupted clone, so aptly named Dark Samus. Now that her evil half was gone forever, along with most of the Phazon in the galaxy, she could focus on the sweetest thing: revenge.

She strolled her way through the stark, deceptively spacious hallways of her tiny gunship, hoping the Pirates hadn't seen her floating in their wake, and reached the bridge with murder on the mind. She would kill two birds with one stone: she would cleanse the galaxy of Phazon once and for all, and she would eliminate the threat that the Pirates posed to the neighboring planets, all while exacting vengeance on the Pirates for the problems they had caused her.

She sat in the pilot's chair and grasped the stick firmly. Easing the throttle forward, she smiled at the warm hum of the engines pushing the ship along in the icy vacuum between stars, ever closer to her target. Her finger hovered over the trigger in momentary hesitation as a lump formed in her throat.

She had always had qualms about killing for no reason, and this freighter was unarmed. There were no fighter escorts, and no external gun turrets. She was out of their radar range, out of their scopes and traveling in the dying fringes of their engine wash where none else would dare travel. She placed her finger on the trigger and gripped the stick tightly, gritting her teeth against her conscience.

Finally, she jammed the throttle all the way down and let go of the stick. "I can't do it," she sighed. She was about to turn the ship about and make her way back to Galactic Federation Headquarters to report the freighter and its hidden cargo, but something in the distance caught her eye. It grew steadily larger until it finally slowed to a stop near the Pirate freighter. "What the—?" she murmured as she eased the ship forward for a closer look.

The new craft was a capital ship—that much was obvious—and instead of the typical grey and black of the Space Pirates, it was painted an organic purple color. She saw writing on the side she did not recognize, and tried to fly close enough to scan it and send to the GF for analysis. But when she came within half a click, a blue ball of plasma exploded from one of the cannons.

She shouted, a habitual reaction for space combat veterans such as herself, and threw the throttle forward as she began to evade the shots. The stars in her view spun out of control as she ducked, weaved, and dipped away from the turrets' horrifyingly accurate shots, and finally laid down a few shots of her own. But it wasn't enough; one ball of plasma connected with an aft engine, turning it into shrapnel.

She turned tail and flew away from the ship, shoving the throttle as far forward as she could, hoping to escape the deadly turrets on the capital ship. As soon as she was past two clicks, the guns stopped blazing and she was able to once again fly in peace. She flipped several switches and sighed as the ship leapt entered hyperspace.

* * *

"Blast it, find that ship! I want that guy's hide nailed to my desk!" The Master Chief hadn't seen Captain Morrison so irritated in quite a while. He did, however, have good cause to be frustrated; their entire operation had just been jeopardized by a lone ship attacking the Covenant capital ship that filled their view.

"Calm down, Captain," urged Chief. This was no time to get out of sorts over a minor setback.

"Calm?" bellowed the captain in retort. "How can I remain calm when this whole thing is shot to hell by some hotshot? Follow the capital ship and send some fighters to get that other one!"

"They're running, sir!" shouted the copilot.

"I don't give a rat's better end! Kill their engines before—" The large Covenant vessel vanished into hyperspace. "Son of a… Follow them!"

"We can't, sir. The drive isn't responding."

"Not responding? What the blazes is wrong with it?"

"It was deactivated."

Chief knew what this meant: there was a stowaway onboard. "I'll take care of it," he said apathetically, as if he did this sort of job in his sleep. "Just give me a pistol and I'll get that drive working again."

"Take mine, Chief," called Anton, a gung-ho Marine that was always eager to kill something or somebody. He tossed the weapon to Chief and gave a thumbs-up signal.

"I'll take good care of it," Chief replied. He holstered the weapon and made his way aft to where the large hyperdrive generator was located. It was a precision machine; a speck of dust in the wrong spot could cause a complete overload, which would destroy the ship. The maintenance team was constantly tending the massive generator, cleaning it and replacing worn parts as necessary, but they didn't appear to be present.

Soon, Chief knew why. Several of the crew workers lay dead in the halls with plasma burns characteristic of Covenant weaponry. "What do you think, Cortana?" he asked the AI in his helmet system, the one that he had taken from the _Pillar of Autumn_ before its crash on the first Halo.

"Looks like Covenant to me," she replied. "I would suffer a guess that they saw us coming and sent a few Grunts, or maybe some Jackals to sabotage."

"My guess is they sent Brutes," Chief muttered. He hated the burly anti-infantry units that the Covenant was ever more often sending to do the smallest of jobs. "But at least they didn't send Hunters."

"There are tracks on the ground matching the size and stride of a Grunt," observed Cortana. "They're somewhat expendable, so that's my guess as to what the Covenant sent."

Chief chuckled wryly. In every mission he fought against the Covenant, Grunts made up the vast majority of the opposing forces. They were most effective in packs, but a lone grunt with a plasma pistol could do some serious damage to any Marine, and not even Chief's MJOLNIR armor was enough to repel the damage.

He crept through the halls to the hyperdrive generator, and as he neared it, he noticed a trail of bright cyan blood leading in the direction of the bulkhead. He cocked the pistol and readied it to fire as he tried to open the massive blast door. When he entered the correct access code, the panel flashed red and beeped sourly. "It's not working, Cortana."

"They must have changed it," she mused. "If I was in the ship, I'd be able to open it, no sweat. But seeing as how the AI on the _Chance_ and I have had a considerably rough past together, I probably won't be able to do so."

"You had a past together?"

"Onyx and I were written side by side. Once we were activated, I saw some incorrect code and pointed it out to his programmer, who fixed the code while Onyx was still running. Pretty painful process. Now he's bitter toward me."

"Just try."

She sighed and accessed the ship's comm. system. "Captain Morrison, this is Cortana."

"Go ahead," the captain replied over the radio, his drawl cutting through any static.

"The engine room bulkhead is locked and Chief and I can't open it. Could you have Onyx give it a whirl?"

"No," replied the bitter AI. "You're not going in there and screwing with _my_ engine."

"I'm sorry, Onyx, but we must."

"No. Chief, I'm fine with, but _you_? I don't think so."

"Just do it, blast it," grumbled the captain. "I can easily erase you and replace you with another AI that's newer and smarter."

"Fine," muttered Onyx. The bulkhead slid open slowly, and Chief heard the startled sounds of a busy Grunt whose soliloquy was interrupted by the clang of the door.

Once the noise subsided and the Grunt began talking to himself again, Chief made his way silently into the room to see the perpetrator making use of the drive's control console. If he shot now, he would no doubt eradicate the problem, but at the same time he would damage the console and potentially overload the drive. It was an unhappy choice, but he finally worked his way down to the console and up behind the Grunt. He grabbed the alien in a choke hold, put the gun to its head, and pulled the trigger, spattering the bright cyan blood all over his visor.

He wiped the fluid from his view and went to work diagnosing the problem. Cortana helped somewhat, but there were some things that Onyx didn't allow Chief to do, such as rebooting the drive's control computer. Finally, after an exorbitant amount of wasted time, the drive was finally back up and running. The captain was not impressed in the least bit by the charade, and threatened to crash the ship into a nearby star if the two AI programs didn't ease up on each other.

"It's not me," Cortana defended. "Onyx is the one that is holding the grudge."

"That's just because my programmer was too tired to shut me down in order to debug."

"Shut up, you two!" the captain barked. "Chief, is the problem fixed?"

"We can jump any time."

"Good. As soon as I've shoved my fist up that hotshot's—"

Chief couldn't bear to hear anymore grumbling, and he shut off the comm. channel.

"Wanted some privacy?" Cortana teased.

"Something's not right about this. I want to know exactly what was on the freighter that the Covenant capital ship picked up, and I want to know exactly where it came from. Since nobody knows that, I'm going to have to find it out for myself."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"I'm going to do a little bit of interrogation with our so-called hotshot."

* * *

Samus's heart pounded in her chest as she glanced at the rear-view monitors. Two other ships were hot on her tail, and they were gaining fast. With one damaged engine, even hyperspace wasn't enough to outrun them, and soon they were within firing range, where they stayed.

"Unknown spacecraft, identify yourself," crackled a voice over the radio.

"This is Samus Aran," she replied. "I am a bounty hunter and I was tracking a Space Pirate freighter. Now you'd better tell me who you are and why you're following me."

"We are of the United Nations Space Command, Marine Corps division. We were tracking a Covenant battleship when you interfered with our operation, thereby jeopardizing interplanetary security."

"Listen to me," Samus snapped. "The Pirate freighter I was tracking was hauling enough Phazon to kill an entire planet, understand? If this Covenant thingamajig was the capital ship that picked up the freighter, then you're chasing the wrong girl. Let me go so that I can repair my ship."

"Because you have jeopardized interplanetary security, we have no choice but to haul you back to the _Chance_."

"What do you mean 'haul me back'?" Her question was answered when her ship's computer was hacked and her engines shut down. She tried everything she could think of to flush out the attackers, but to no avail. The three ships reversed direction and came out of hyperspace near a large grey ship bearing a strange insignia and the name _Chance_.

Her ship was piloted to a docking bay, where several armed soldiers were there to greet her. When she left the gunship, one of them took her hand and ordered her to come along with him to the bridge, and she followed without question; she was unarmed and the soldiers were showing no other hostility toward her.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded once they reached the bridge. She broke free of the soldier's grip. "Who is the captain?"

"I am."

She looked to find the man who was talking and laid eyes on a burly, broad-shouldered man with an angular face and a box chin. His brown hair was combed back and held in place by some means, and he stared her down from behind a pair of dark sunglasses, and he was dressed in a well-fitting uniform that was covered in a splotchy green and brown pattern. The letters UNSC were stitched in black above the left breast pocket, along with his name and rank: Capt. A. Morrison. "Well, Captain," she asked, "why am I here?"

"As you have already been informed, you interfered with a highly sensitive government operation, and inter—"

"Yeah, I know, interplanetary security may be at stake."

He took off his glasses and a series of gasps filtered through the rest of the crew in the room. "Let me make one thing perfectly clear, little missy. You will _never_ interrupt me again."

"And you will never call me 'little missy' again," Samus fired back. "My name is Samus Aran. Miss Aran to you."

The captain ground his teeth. "I don't give a rip what your name is, or what you want to be called. This is my ship, and you will play by _my_ rules. And my rules dictate that you will answer all of my questions, or else I'll have to resort to more…unconventional means of obtaining the desired information. Now I'm asking you nicely: what were you doing attacking a Covenant vessel?"

"I didn't attack. They shot first. And for your information, I was minding my own business."

"Well it looks like your business is our business." He replaced his glasses and turned, walking toward the star-filled viewport. "What was your business, anyway?"

"I was following a Space Pirate freighter that was hauling a highly radioactive mutagen known as Phazon. I was going to destroy it, but I couldn't force myself to. But that's when that…Covenant, you said…capital ship came up and tractored in the freighter. I flew in to investigate and they shot at me. Naturally, I shot back. I never fire the first shot."

"A softie, eh?"

She charged forward and roared at him, "I am _not_ soft! I'm just as hard as you!" Several crew members snickered, but she ignored them. "For your information, I have single-handedly saved numerous planets from the Pirates and their mad science. How many planets have you saved?"

"None on my own, but one of my crew saved the galaxy. More than once."

"Well I want to meet this so-called warrior and give him a piece of my mind."

A door slid open behind her and she turned to look at who came through. He was tall, decked out in heavy green armor, and wore a helmet that obscured his face behind a reflective gold visor. She expected to hear the whir of servo motors as he walked, but his joints made no noise except that of his armor rubbing together.

"Morrison," he said, "I am _never_ going to do anything on this ship again unless you tell Onyx to make up with Cortana."

"Ah, Master Chief," the captain said, smirking as he looked over his shoulder. "Meet Samus Aran. Miss Aran to the both of us."

She wanted to punch the captain square across his square jaw for mocking her, but refrained. "And is this your notorious galaxy-saver?" she chaffed.

"Why yes, it is," Captain Morrison replied. "And I trust him more than I trust you."

"What's this about, Captain?" asked the soldier.

"Chief, this is the guy who screwed our operation."

"As I was saying to the captain," Samus explained, "I was minding my own business when the Covenant ship came up and fired at me."

"I believe her, Captain," Chief replied. "She could shed some light on this situation."

"Just send me on my way and I'll slink off to Galactic Federation headquarters and mope."

"Sorry to interrupt, Captain," said one of the many people sitting behind computer screens, "but we're having trouble tracking the Covenant vessel."

"Then fix the problem, Private Hawkins."

"I don't know what the problem is," she replied. "We're not getting the standard signature."

"Which way did they go?" Samus asked.

"They headed bearing sixteen by eight by twenty degrees astro-north."

"Astro-north?" Samus wondered.

"No matter where you are in the universe," the captain explained, "Polaris is north. Back home on Earth, it's just plain north. But out here it's astro-north, and you have to have three coordinates to find your destination."

"Well, if they headed that way, we should narrow down their possible destinations," Samus suggested.

"There are millions of planets within their range," the captain scoffed.

"Then track the Phazon."

"I'm sorry, missy, but we don't have the proper equipment to track an unknown substance across vast distances."

"It has a unique alpha-beta-gamma radioactivity signature," Samus replied. "Track that and you'll find them." She gave the details about Phazon's unique mutagenic radiation and told Private Hawkins to program the ship to follow the signature wherever it went along the Covenant ship's trajectory. Once Hawkins understood, Samus smiled at her cleverness.

"That's a nice trick, missy," the captain said. "But I'm afraid it won't work."

"It will work."

"We have the signature, sir," Hawkins announced.

Samus chuckled. "I'll be on my way." But when she reached the door that led back to her ship, Chief stepped in front of her.

"No, Miss Aran," he replied, "you will be staying with us for a while longer."

She turned and looked at the captain, only to see a sneer split his face as the ship jumped into hyperspace in pursuit of the Covenant ship. "You do realize that this is kidnapping."

The captain laughed. "You're not a kid, and we're not napping. Enjoy your stay aboard the _Chance_."


	2. Up to No Good

Samus stormed back to her ship, which she insisted on being her quarters while aboard the _Chance_. She could not escape the docking bay as she wished because the captain had locked down her gunship, but at least there was time to repair the engines. She set the auto-repair function and made her way to the small bedroom that she called home.

Just as she was starting to unzip her flight suit to prepare for the night ahead, a knock came on the door to the lower airlock. She rolled her eyes and zipped the suit back up, and then went to the airlock to answer the call.

A soldier stood there, nervously kicking at dust bunnies on the ground. When he saw Samus looking at him, he snapped to attention, but quickly relaxed his posture. "Miss Aran," he began, "I hope you don't take it too hard what Captain Morrison is doing. He's really in a bad mood."

"What is your name, soldier?"

"I am a Marine, and my name is Anton," he replied. "We're really all Marines."

"I thought the only Marines were the ones that brought me aboard." She shrugged. "Go figure. Tell me, Anton, will I be able to leave soon?"

"I don't know, Miss—"

"My friends call me Samus."

"Samus. Well, I don't really know when they're going to let you go, but I'll do my best to make sure you're comfy. This ship can get mighty lonesome." He saluted and took his leave, taking one last glance back before he left the docking bay.

"Believe me," Samus murmured, "I know."

She made her way back to the sleeping quarters and slipped out of her flight suit, shivering at the sudden cold. She turned up the thermostat and turned out the light, leaving the room glowing softly of simulated moonlight before slipping beneath the blankets on the soft mattress.

She looked at the wall to her left and reached out to touch the photo hanging there. The tattered, faded portrait depicted her smiling parents, Rodney and Virginia, holding her as a toddler. Taken weeks after her second birthday, it was the only thing that survived the Space Pirates' attack on her colony. They looked so happy together. And she looked happy to be with them. And the Pirates had taken it all away in their selfish pursuit of dominance.

The only thing she remembered from that fateful day was a vague terror as the strange creatures attacked, killing without discretion. She didn't fully understand at the time, and it was years before the Chozo that adopted her told her exactly what happened. But the void left by her parents was filled by the love of her adopted family.

Even so, she had been largely on her own and away from others of her race since she was in her late teens. She had done some work with the Galactic Federation, but for the most part she was used to working alone.

She turned onto her side to get more comfortable and shut her eyes, relaxing and letting herself slowly drift off to sleep. Images of Pirates and Metroids faded in and out of her vision, along with the occasional nightmarish Ing, but finally her dreams turned pleasant.

_She was with her parents as a teenager; the Space Pirates had never attacked the colony, and everything was the way it should be. Her mother encouraged her to enter the field of nursing, and she found the subject very enjoyable, yet challenging enough to feed her ravenous hunger for knowledge._

_It was just after a class in microbiology, and she was explaining paramecia to her mother. "These things eat by totally engulfing their prey and dissolving it," she said, fascinated by the microbes. "And they're almost more complex organisms than humans."_

"_But they seem so simple."_

"_That's the thing, Mom. They seem simple only because they're tiny. But they're more than just blobs of cytoplasm." She turned to the computer screen, where she stared mesmerized at a video of a paramecium moving around in a Petri dish, eating, and reproducing by dividing itself._

"_Are you sure you have to learn this to become a nurse?"_

"_Mom, I've got to learn about the germs that make you sick in order to kill them."_

_Her dream changed and found her standing in front of a crowd, giving her speech as the valedictorian of the colony's Nursing Education Program. There, sitting in the first row behind the graduates, were her parents, her father beaming and applauding, and her mother wiping away tears. She felt warm and loved—a part of the group. It felt good._

_Suddenly a young man's voice came over the loudspeaker. "As many of you know," he said, "Samus and I have been very good friends for many years. My brains don't hold a candle to hers, and she's the reason I passed this course." He came out on stage and stood next to her, addressing the audience. "A few of you have even seen us kiss a couple of times. But it just wasn't enough, was it?"_

"_Luke, what are you doing?" she scolded._

"_I'm trying to ask you something," he replied, digging in his pocket. "Will you…oh, were is that stupid…aha." He knelt down and held out a sparkling, very expensive ring—three diamonds set in platinum. "Will you marry me?"_

She woke up.

The room still glowed a pale blue from the simulated moonlight. She pushed a button on the wall and a clock read out the time: 0900. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, shaking any remaining drowsiness from her head, and made her way to the shower, locking the airlock door as she went so as to prevent any unwanted visitors.

She turned on the water and stepped into the stream, breathing deeply to fill her lungs with the steam that percolated throughout the glass-walled alcove. The hot water running over her body refreshed her spirit, allowing her to for a moment forget her imprisonment aboard the _Chance_.

She stood in the hot stream for nearly half an hour before she finally decided it was time to get to work. She reluctantly turned off the water and reached for the clean, dry towel that came from the dispenser on the ceiling, drying herself off and wrapping the wet towel around her body. 

Her damp hair hung in strands about her shoulders, and she wished for some way to dry it quicker, but she never did like the hair dryers that some of the GF women used; they were loud and cumbersome, and throughout her years with the Chozo, she had grown accustomed to letting the air dry her hair. But the lack of a hair dryer didn't stop her from caring for it—every morning she brushed it until it was silky smooth before putting it into a pony tail.

As she was finishing brushing her hair, a knock came on the ship's hull. She put down the brush and tossed her towel into the hamper, and took her flight suit out of the closet, smiling at the aroma of the clean uniform. If there was one thing she was grateful for on this ship, it was the automatic laundry.

She donned the suit and went to answer the door, taking her brush along so that she could maybe finish her daily routine before reporting in or being thrown in the brig, whichever one would happen.

She unlocked the airlock door and opened it, and was a bit surprised to see Anton standing there. She greeted him with a simple "Good morning."

When he saw her brushing her hair, he said, "Oh, I had no idea you were still getting ready for the day. I'll come back later." He began to turn away when she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Why did you come here, Anton?" she asked.

"The captain wanted to come and wake you up, but I volunteered instead. I know how harsh he can be; he'd probably bang on your hull with a monkey wrench. I tried the door, but it was locked, so I knocked."

"Don't worry about it. What does the captain want with me?"

"We've come out of hyperspace, and we have the _Judgment's Consequence_ on our scopes."

"_Judgment's Consequence_?" Samus wondered.

"It's the ship that picked up that freighter."

"I see." She invited him in so as not to be rude and leave him standing there while she finished her hair. "In case you're wondering," she explained, "the freighter that the _Judgment's Consequence_ picked up is designated _FT-25_. In fact, almost none of the Space Pirates' ships have names—only designations." She tied her hair with an elastic and flipped the pony tail behind her.

"What's this?"

What was what? She left the room and glanced back and forth through the halls, only to find Anton staring at her Varia Suit with awe. "That's my suit," she replied.

"Chief's suit is kind of like this…but different."

"I probably won't be using it," she sighed, reaching out and touching the shiny metal. "Just polished it up nice, too."

"The only difference between Chief and you is that he never takes off his suit. But I'm glad you're not behind a helmet all the time."

She blushed. Was he flirting with her? If he was trying not to be obvious about it, then he was doing a horrible job. Nonetheless, she had to thank him for his compliment, and she led him out so that he could lead her to the bridge.

"Ah, Miss Aran," greeted the Captain. "Your theory was right on the money. And now we have our ship. Thanks to you, we're going to get to the bottom of this. So tell me, what are we dealing with on this freighter?"

"The Space Pirates are a race bent on universal domination," she explained. "Ever since they discovered Phazon and started mining it on Tallon IV, they have been experimenting with its mutagenic properties. The Phazon radiation, however, causes a mental illness known as Phazon sickness or Phazon corruption."

"What exactly is Phazon?"

She rolled her eyes. "Element number one-seventeen, previously known as Ununseptium. Just as predicted, Phazon is a dark grey metal—until it starts to decay, releasing alpha and beta particles, in addition to gamma rays. 

"The heavier isotope, the raw 'dirty Phazon,' decays at a faster rate, making it more dangerous, and emits orange light as a byproduct of its decay, whereas the lighter, purer isotope is more stable and emits blue light as a byproduct of its decay. The Pirates' operation on Tallon IV was meant to harvest and refine the raw Phazon and purify it to make it less dangerous."

"And how do you know all this, may I ask?"

"I've made it my mission to destroy every last bit of Phazon in the universe. I only wish it was rarer than Astatine."

"Well then it would be harder to find," Anton commented.

Samus smirked. "You have a point. So what's our course of action?"

"We'll send a boarding party to assess the situation," the captain explained, "and then we may send a strike force if the need arises."

Samus was the first to raise her hand. "I volunteer for the—"

"Oh no you don't. Until we can figure out exactly what is going on, only members of my crew will go. And there will be no volunteering—I will choose who goes and who stays. Chief, you're with the boarding party. Bartram, you too."

Anton expressed his glee.

"Hazel, Lucas, Peterson, and Lewis, you're with Chief. Lieutenant Peters will lead the strike force, and she'll also choose who goes along."

Samus waited eagerly for Lieutenant Peters to select her, but when the woman had finished selecting her team members, she was left disappointed. 

"Don't worry, Samus," Anton encouraged, "your time will come."

"Come on, Private Bartram," ordered Chief. "We need to get over to that ship."

"All right!" Anton said gleefully as he made his way to the lift that would carry him to the hangar. "Finally I get some _real_ action."

Before he left, Chief turned to the captain and said, "I want Miss Aran to have full video and audio from my helmet cam. She can provide us with valuable intel."

"Fine, whatever," the captain replied, nodding to a technician, who patched the video feed from Chief's helmet cam onto the bridge viewport. "I was gonna to do that anyway."

Samus turned her gaze to the large viewport, which was essentially an enormous computer screen that usually imitated a window. But she had learned quickly that there were no glass windows on the _Chance_ due to the vacuum of space. The occupants of the bridge watched as Chief pulled himself into the large Pelican transport and briefed his team.

"This isn't an attack mission," he said. "We're going in and out as quickly and quietly as possible. In other words, it's a Smokey Bear operation."

"How are we going to get in?" Anton asked.

"Shut your mouth and listen. We can't breach the hull without setting off a myriad of alarms, so we're going to have to go in the hard way. Their engines are off, so we'll use the emergency airlocks in the funnels. Cortana can hack the alarm systems so that we can get in unnoticed."

"What next?" Anton asked.

Chief grunted. "A lesson for first-timers: never interrupt during your briefings. All bases will be covered, especially when I'm covering them. All right? Good. After we're in, stealth is paramount. Our analysis indicates the freighter in question, _FT-25_, to be in docking bay gamma in the aft of the ship."

"Speaking of aft," another rookie Marine commented, snickering, "did you see that chick we picked up yesterday? Holy _crap_, she's hot."

"Holy crap, she's watching this, along with the captain and the rest of the crew," Chief snapped back. "One more interruption and I'll flush whoever it is out the airlock."

Samus would have smirked if he hadn't been serious, but she could tell he was.

"Chief?" asked another soldier.

"Go ahead, Corporal Peterson."

"What are the rules of engagement?"

"If you kill, you do it swiftly and silently. We're going to be dealing with mostly Grunts and Jackals, but there will be some Elites."

"Elites?" Samus asked.

"Ugly buggers," the captain explained. "Tough as nails, too. Just listen."

Samus focused her attention back on the screen and tried to pick up the conversation where it was left off.

"…so that you don't have to use first aid; we don't have a medic with us. Also remember that friendly fire is bad."

"But I thought you said we would be swift and silent," Corporal Peterson replied.

Chief sighed. "Never, I repeat, _never_ assume that you will be able to come out of a fight without firing a shot. Remember, these Covenant pigs don't care; they're spineless killers who will shoot on sight. And if they start shooting, send the request for the strike team."

"Which one of us."

"All of you." Chief's view lurched as the Pelican came to a stop. "Good, we're still ghosts. Get your helmets on and move!"

The marines pulled on their out-of-atmosphere helmets, which allowed them to survive in space, and held themselves down as the cargo bay depressurized. The bay door opened silently and Chief signaled them to move. One by one, they left and made their way to the engine exhaust port—the funnel—and the emergency airlock therein.

Chief asked somebody named Cortana to open the airlock, and several seconds later the door slid open. Curious, Samus asked, "Who is Cortana? I've heard Chief mention her before, but I don't know much else."

"She's an AI that Chief rescued from the _Pillar of Autumn_ some years ago before he destroyed the first Halo. It's a long story. Shh."

She was satisfied with that, and turned her gaze back to the live video feed. Chief was moving through the halls of the Covenant ship unhindered. A lone alien guarded the entrance to the objective docking bay, and Chief quickly dispatched it, signaling the others to move in after him.

There, in all its glory, was _FT-25_, its designation emblazoned on the hull in the Space Pirates' characteristic angular script. "There she is," Anton marveled. "And a real piece of crap, I might add."

"Shh!" Chief snapped. "Cortana, kill the cameras."

"I can't, Chief," the AI replied.

"Then we'll have to do this the hard way. They've got every inch of this bay under surveillance or my name isn't Master Chief."

The high-pitched, nervous voice of an alien echoed through the halls: "Uh-oh, he's dead. Better investigate."

Chief looked at the doorway and gripped the stock of his gun, poised to bring it down on the alien's head. Like clockwork the alien came through the door and died at Chief's hand. "We don't have much time," he said. "Move."

"Awesome," Anton said, giddy with anticipation, but Chief dashed his hopes.

"Private Bartram, guard the door."

"Aww man," Anton grumbled. "Why can't I go with you?"

"I don't want your first battle to be your last. You don't know what's on that thing."

"Yes I do. Bad guys."

"Whatever it is could take us by surprise and wipe out the entire team. If you hear any gunshots, call for help, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Chief followed the rest of the team down to the ship and tried to get Cortana to breach the door. She had a hard time doing it, but was finally able to get inside.

"To the cargo bay," he ordered, filing in after the rest of them. He glanced around warily, checking every doorway of the deserted ship. "Looks clean," he commented over the radio to the rest of the team. But he was wrong.

"Augh! Son of a…get it off me!" screamed Corporal Peterson. "It's on my face! Get it off! Get it off!"

Right away, Samus knew that it was. "Metroids!" she shouted. "I have to get over there _now_!"

"No you don't, missy."

"Try and stop me!" She pushed past several other crew members and dashed through the halls to her ship.

She quickly slipped into her Varia suit and pulled the helmet on, sealing it for safety. Before the captain could lock the _Chance_ down, she was out of the airlock and on her way to the _Judgment's Consequence_.


	3. Rescue

Chief dashed through the halls to the cargo bay of the freighter, shoving Marines out of his way. Whatever was attacking Peterson was going to die a quick and bloody death. He dove out into the doorway of the spacious cargo bay, only to find it littered with crates and glass cages housing strange jellyfish-like creatures. "Peterson, where are you?" he called, looking around every corner.

"Son of a… Get it off me!" Peterson screamed, off to the right.

Chief dashed over with his assault rifle at the ready. "I've got you," he said as he turned the corner, but his trigger finger was put away when he saw the Marine writhing on the ground, one of the strange jellyfish latched onto his face. The color had drained from his skin, and his body was going limp. Chief had to do something.

He jumped forward and hit the creature as hard as he could with the stock of his gun. It chirped in protest, but did not let go, so he persisted. Finally it detached itself from the Marine's face and floated toward Chief. He dove aside to dodge it, and unloaded an entire clip into it before it fell dead.

"Peterson," he said, rushing over to the soldier, "speak to me." Nothing. "Peterson, are you all right?" He reached down and checked for a pulse, then swore under his breath when he felt nothing.

Peterson's eyes were rolled back in his head, but the color had returned to his skin. His face was twisted in agony, and the only evidence of the creature's presence was a pair of bruises where it had latched on. "It sucked the life out of him."

"I've never seen anything like it," Cortana commented. "The lamprey back on Earth does something similar, but…the skin isn't even broken here."

"Something is seriously wrong with this picture," Chief replied. "Miss Aran said that the freighter was hauling Phazon, which is what I assume is in these crates. She didn't say anything about these creatures."

"It could be that she didn't know."

"I suppose it's possible." He stood up and called the Marines around, save for Anton, who was still guarding the entrance to the docking bay. "Listen up, Marines," he said. "Peterson is dead. Whatever killed him is dead as well. But there are more of them in these glass cages, and I assume they are in stasis. Regardless, we can't be going around and lighting up the place. Keep the safety on your rifles and don't even breathe on these cages. We don't want an accident on our hands."

Behind him rang the sound of shattering glass and the chirp of another of the creatures. "Uh, Chief?"

He turned around to see the creature floating above him, poised to attack. There was only one course of action: "Take cover!" He dove behind a box and reloaded his rifle, just to fire and miss as the creature latched onto another Marine. Nothing could be done to detach it; that much was obvious. So Chief gave the soldier the only thing that could ease his suffering—a bullet through the head.

As the Marine slumped to the ground, the creature released its grip and found another host. This time, the Marine flailed his arms, firing his gun and shattering two more cages. Chief quickly put an end to his life and shot down one of the creatures, but was unable to do much more before he hid behind a large crate.

Several explosions sounded behind him, and he saw the creatures' reddish-orange blood spatter the walls. More cages shattered and more explosions split the air, accompanied by the creatures' dying screams. He peered around the corner to see a new soldier dressed in a sturdy red and yellow suit firing small missiles at the creatures with a cannon that was attached to his right arm. "It's high time you showed up," he shouted over the explosions.

"Don't let them latch on," the soldier said. But it was no man. And Chief recognized that voice.

"Miss Aran!"

"Call me Samus. It's shorter." One of the creatures latched onto her, and Chief dashed forward to try and shoot it dead, but he stopped short when she transformed into a sphere and laid a small bomb, which detached the creature upon detonation. She morphed back into her normal form and unloaded several shots into the creature, causing it to explode. "Chief, do me a favor and hide somewhere. I'll take care of these things."

"Are you sure, Samus?"

"Just do it!" She fired a missile and killed another creature. "Dang, that was my last one."

"Take a grenade!" Chief tossed her one of his frag grenades, and she gracefully shoved it inside one of the creatures and batted it away with her cannon. It exploded in a spectacular shower of entrails and shrapnel just as Chief hid behind a crate.

Minutes passed and no sounds were heard but the sound of Samus's plasma cannon, the small explosions from her bombs, and the solid _pop_ of each creature's demise. Finally, she told Chief it was clear.

He stood and looked around. The walls were covered with slime from the dozens of creatures that she had killed, and the bodies of Marines littered the floor. "Looks like you gave them hell."

"All in a day's work," she replied.

"I'm coming!" Anton called from the freighter's entry hatch. "They won't get past me!"

"They're all dead, Anton," Samus apologized. "I dealt with them."

"And I missed it. Dang it all!"

"What were those things?" Chief asked.

Samus grabbed the limp body of the first one Chief killed and held it up for them to see. "They're called metroids. And they steal the life force of their victims. The only way to detach them is to roll into the morph ball and lay a bomb."

"Either that, or kill the host."

"Exactly." She tossed the dead metroid aside and shook her head. "This is not good at all. Phazon _and_ metroids? That combination causes death. And lots of it." She made her way to a crate and pried it open, only to find it empty. "Even worse."

"What?" Chief wondered.

"They've taken the Phazon." She tapped her visor and went around the bay, looking at every crate. Finally, she returned. "They've taken all of it."

"All?"

"We can't do any more," she said. "Let's get back to the _Chance_."

"What about the other Marines?" Anton asked.

Chief made his way out of the freighter and into the docking bay. "They're dead, and we don't have a way to get them back. We leave them." He stepped onto the elevator and waited for the others. "Bartram, did you call for the strike force?"

"Not exactly."

He groaned. "Next time, follow orders, Private." He radioed for the Pelican as they reached the upper level, and he walked out the door as if he had cleared the _Judgment's Consequence_ of Covenant forces. But he hadn't.

A ball of plasma exploded next to him and he jumped out of the way, facing his enemy. But it was one he had never seen before; it was similar to an Elite, but wore black armor and didn't carry Covenant weaponry. It roared at him and charged him with an energy scythe, which he easily dodged. He fired at its head, but the bullets bounced harmlessly off.

"Pirates!" Samus shouted as she opened fire. Her cannon charged and a large ball of plasma impacted the creature, knocking it back long enough for her to fire again and kill it. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Chief gladly followed her to the waiting Pelican, which they all entered. The mission had been an outright failure; he had lost four good men to the metroids and friendly fire. But he was glad Samus stepped in when she did.

She took off her helmet once the cabin was sealed and pressurized, and Chief couldn't help but stare. Her long blonde hair hung in a pony tail behind her, and her blue eyes were eerily calm and collected for having just come out of a firefight with a group of life-sucking aliens. He would have called her beautiful even if she had been a mere petty officer aboard the _Chance_. But something about her made him uneasy, made him shift in his seat. The hypnotic pull of her calm eyes took hold and held his gaze firmly.

She stared at him for minutes, oblivious to the fact that he was staring back at her, scrutinizing every detail of her suit, trying to understand its foreign design. He was glad for his visor, because the longer she gazed at him, the stronger she pulled, and the harder it was to resist her. But the new emotions were short-lived; the Pelican lurched to a stop and the hatch opened as the cabin equalized pressure with the hangar aboard the _Chance_.

"Now we debrief," he explained, unstrapping himself and exiting the Pelican. "I am sure Captain Morrison wants to know why he lost four men."

"Leave it to me," Samus replied. "He may be a bit ticked because I went AWOL, but he'll thank me; I saved two of you."

"I wouldn't be so sure. He's going to chalk the whole thing up to luck. Or he's going to commend you. But my guess is that he'll want to throw you in the brig, which I won't stand for. In my eyes you're a hero."

"Thanks," she replied.

Chief led Anton and Samus to debriefing, where they each gave their account of the fight to the captain. When they had finished there came a long, painful silence—the calm before the storm. But finally the captain spoke.

"So you're saying that an armed civilian escaped without a scratch from a firefight with a bunch of life-leeches that cost me four of my best men?"

Chief nodded. "Essentially, yes."

"Aran, I ought to throw you in the brig for insubordination! I gave you explicit orders to stay put, and you went over there and interfered with a military—"

Samus stood up and shouted, "I saved two men's lives, Captain."

"I don't give a sh—"

"Captain," Chief interrupted, "may I point out that she is not an enlisted officer, and therefore is not under your command? I wouldn't want to see you court-martialed for jailing a civilian."

"What?"

"Besides, she's a hero. Had she not showed up, Bartram and I would be dead."

Captain Morrison growled, swearing under his breath. "Fine. Just don't go off doing your own thing anymore. The last thing I want is to lose another one of my men."

"I'll stay out of your hair on one condition," Samus replied. "You will let me go in alongside Chief whenever we're dealing with the Pirates, metroids, or Phazon. Understand?"

"Yeah, whatever."

She reached out and shook his reluctant hand. "Pleasure working with you, Captain." She stood and took her leave, and Anton followed her.

"Who does she think she is, Chief?" the captain asked once they were alone. "First, she comes and screws up our operation. Second, she trumps my knowledge of the situation. Third, she undermines my authority. Fourth, she goes in alone and blows the hell out of everything over there. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was you."

"We have a lot in common," Chief replied, smiling behind his helmet.

"That's what I'm worried about. I've got to get back to the bridge." He stood and saluted, then left the room.

"Chief," Cortana warned, "be careful. You're on very thin ice."

"I wouldn't worry about it," he replied. "Samus can save me if I fall in." He left the room and made his way to his quarters.

* * *

Samus sighed as she hung up the last piece of her Varia suit. She hated metroids more than any other creature—grenchlers, she could handle; Ing, she could defeat; Pirates, she could kill; but metroids were a scourge that saw no end. _Just be glad they weren't Fission Metroids,_ she thought.

She reached up to her forehead and wiped away a trickle of blood that had no doubt stained her hair. To her, blood meant life; when you bled, your heart was beating. But metroids stole life without stealing blood. It was unnatural, almost perverse. On top of that, it was incredibly painful.

Samus vividly remembered the first time she was attacked by a metroid. She was in the middle of her teenage years, around sixteen, carrying out a reconnaissance mission with a Chozo warrior on a desolate planet in an abandoned corner of the galaxy. The Chozo warrior had explained the planet to be lifeless; he even assured her she wouldn't fire a shot. But he was wrong.

The first thing she remembered was a searing pain as the creature attached itself to her face, and then a numbness over her entire body as it began to drain her strength. She blacked out before the Chozo warrior rescued her, but he later recounted the whole ordeal. "The only way to detach a metroid," he explained to her, "is to roll into the morph ball and lay a bomb." And she never forgot it.

"Yoo-hoo," called a voice from the lower hatch of the gunship, "are you there, Samus?" It was Anton.

"Come on in," she sighed. It was a pleasant change to be in the company of somebody that wasn't trying to kill her, even if he did make an occasional flirtation.

"How's it going?" he asked as he walked up.

"I've been better," she replied, "but I'm far from tired. Killing a couple dozen metroids is hardly my idea of a tough fight."

"And yet you're all tense."

"I am not," she defended.

"You are, too. I can feel it in the air, see it in your eyes. You need a vacation, for Pete's sake!"

A vacation. What an idea. "I'll pass."

"Well at least come down to the Rec Room and shoot some pool with me. I bet you fifty bucks I can beat you."

What was a pool, and what were its attacks? And what was a buck? After weighing the rejuvenation brought by sleep against recreational target practice, she chose the latter. And if she won the bet, perhaps she would be richer, if bucks were something of value. "Why not?" She followed him down to the Rec Room and over to a table approximately eight feet in length and covered in green felt, with six holes—one in each corner and one along each of the longer sides.

"What is this?" she asked.

"You've never seen a pool table?" he asked, taking brightly colored balls out of the pockets. "I just became fifty bucks richer."

"What's a buck?"

"A dollar? Currency? None of this rings a bell?"

His use of idioms was frustrating. But at least she knew that bucks were some form of currency—the dollar. "Okay, what are the balls for?"

"The game is called pool," he explained. "I set the balls in a triangle, and then I shoot the white one—the cue ball—toward it like a bat out of hell. The goal is to sink all of your balls before you sink the eight ball—the black one."

He arranged the balls with a large wooden triangle, which he set aside after he was finished, and took a long stick from the wall. He set the cue ball on the green felt surface of the table, then aimed, pulled the stick back, and hit the cue ball with it, causing the ball to slam into the triangular group of colored balls. Several dropped into the pockets.

"Since I sunk some, I shoot again." He repositioned himself, explaining that you can only move the cue ball if your opponent sinks it—called a scratch—and he shot again, sinking a bright yellow ball. "I'm solids," he said. He tried again, but missed. "Your turn."

She took another stick—he called it a cue—from the wall and lined up a shot. _Angle of incidence equals angle of reflection,_ she thought, harkening back to her early instruction in physics. She pulled back the cue and shoved it forward, but the ball didn't go where she wanted. Anton took a shot, but didn't sink any of his balls. "My turn again?" she asked.

"Yeah."

She lined up another shot, but before she was able to launch the ball, Anton took hold of her cue. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"You're still all tense," he replied. "Loosen up your hand." He showed her with his own cue how loosely he held it, allowing minimal pitch and yaw of the stick. "You try."

She did, but couldn't concentrate with him standing so close behind her. His breath was hot on her neck, and she could almost hear him thinking. It was agonizingly uncomfortable. So she jabbed him in the stomach with the cue. "Sorry," she lied.

"That's fine," he said, trying to catch his breath. "Just shoot."

This time, she lined up and shot, sinking three of her balls. "This is fun," she giggled. "I go again?"

"Yeah."

For the rest of the match, she monopolized the table. The only ball she had trouble with was the eight, and it wasn't until Anton had sunk all of his balls that she was finally able to get a decent shot. But true to her aim, it landed in the pocket she called.

"I believe you owe me fifty dollars," she gloated.

"Show-off," he muttered. "I want a rematch."

"All right. Be prepared to lose."

They kept playing until Anton ran out of cash, and as she was counting it and watching Anton writhe in the agony of defeat, her eye caught the clock: 2100 hours. It was bed time. "I'll see you tomorrow," she smirked. "It was a pleasure playing."

"I want to see you on the range tomorrow," he said, lightly punching her right bicep. "We'll see if you're any good with a rifle."

"We'll see," she replied. "Good night."

She walked back to the docking bay, holding the wad of money in her hand. It felt good to win a fight that was merely a game between friends. For the first time since a feast of gratitude that the Luminoth held for her on Aether, she felt relaxed.

As she was about to close the lower hatch to her gunship, she swept her gaze around the bleak hangar. _If this will be my home, I should at least decorate it,_ she thought, planning on painting it some color other than gray. And there, in the rafters, shone a glint of gold, with a spot of green, peering down from the shadows. "Chief," she muttered.

* * *

"Chief, you had better tell me what you're doing."

He groaned. "Reconnaissance, Cortana."

"Observing her sleeping patterns, are we? I'm inside your head, Chief. I know what you're thinking. Don't be a stalker."

"I'm not a stalker," he retorted. "I'm just concerned for her wellbeing."

"Of course you are."

"I didn't know you were programmed to show sarcasm."

"Touché. But I still think you should get down from the rafters."

"She'll see me."

"It's too late for that, Chief. It's time to go home and go to bed. I'm sure she'll be coming along when we raid the _Judgment's Consequence_ tomorrow."

"She doesn't need to know about that. I want to keep her safe."

"You saw how she handled herself against those metroids. She's better than you, Chief."

"No woman is a better fighter than me," he said indignantly. "It isn't possible."

"You're a sexist pig, Chief. I thought I knew you."

"Five million lines of self-maintaining code built to act like a woman will never learn everything there is to know about me."

"And Samus is a _real_ woman, right? Chief, what does she have that I don't?"

He was shocked by Cortana's display of envy. "You're jealous?"

"I have a right to be jealous," she replied. "I've been living in your head since the first Halo, and I've been the only woman you've given any thought to since then. And then this girl comes along from out of the blue and blows up a few aliens, and suddenly you're falling all over her. Is that it? Is it that she's a fighter?"

"That's part of it," he replied. "But those eyes…."

"Give me a break. That's so cliché, Chief. It's always the eyes, isn't it?"

"Cortana, I think there's a bug in your code. You're not supposed to feel emotions, particularly love and jealousy." He stared back down at Samus just as she disappeared into her ship. "Besides, I'm not in love. I'm above that. But I'm still human, and I'm entitled to my natural emotions."

"And I'm entitled to mine."

A new voice crackled over the radio. "Chief, I saw you."

"What are you talking about, Samus?" he replied.

"You're watching me from up in the rafters."

"I'm just conducting surveillance," he explained. "_I'm_ really the one pulling the strings here." He wasn't lying; he was in control of the entire operation, just as the UNSC had planned.

"I'd appreciate it if you stop. I killed a Galactic Federation trooper for stalking me once. And you're no different. I've said it once, and I'll say it again: my heart is so hard to touch that no man will succeed. That means you, Chief." The line went dead.

"I told you, Chief," Cortana taunted. "You need to drop the matter and move on."

"Sure. But I'll be keeping a close eye on her. She's not telling me something." He dropped from the rafters and walked out the docking bay to his quarters, where he lay down in the tilted alcove he called a bed.

"Good night, Chief," said Cortana.

He closed his eyes. "Good night," he replied.


	4. Bloody Pirates

_Samus stood on a desolate planet, staring out over a deep valley. A once beautiful Chozo city lay ruined before her, the bodies of her Chozo brethren strewn throughout the streets. The stink of blood flooded her nostrils, and the raspy voices of the Space Pirates filled the air. The blood of the Chozo was on their hands. And they would pay._

_She rolled into the morph ball and down the slope into the carnage below, laying bombs as she went. Pirate after Pirate fell by her hand, and their blood mingled with that of her comrades as she exacted vengeance upon them. Again and again she killed until she faced a lone commando. He charged her with his scythe. She dodged and brought down her arm cannon upon his head, shattering his skull, and delivered a fully charged shot to the commando's head, knocking him to the ground lifeless and limp._

_She was certain that was the last of them. There was no sound but her heavy breathing, no motion but the wind blowing wisps of dust through the bloodstained streets. But then she heard a footstep behind her. She saw a familiar form step out of the shadows. "Chief?"_

_He raised his pistol and shoved it in her face. "Goodbye, Samus." He pulled the trigger._

She woke up.

The blue neoprene of her flight suit was sticking uncomfortably to her skin. She was sweating profusely and her throat was parched because of it. Her head pounded in agony and she growled for something to relieve the pain.

She groped for the zipper of her suit and yanked it open, then peeled off the blue neoprene skin and tossed it in the hamper. She began to shiver, but wrapped her arms around herself and made her way to the first aid kit in the small sickbay.

She took the small box off the wall and nearly threw it open. A small jet injector called her name, and she put it to her neck and injected herself with the drug it contained, then tossed the empty injector in the waste bin.

"I couldn't help but notice," said the ship's computer, "that your stress levels are elevated, as is your body temperature. You are also dehydrated. Would you like me to administer treatment?"

"No," she replied. "Just turn down the thermostat a bit."

"Executing," the computer said, sans emotion as usual. "Would you like me to process your laundry?"

"Just do your job," she grumbled, thankful that the computer wasn't as dumb as the one on her previous gunship, which would take only "yes" and "no" answers and questions marked by the word "query".

"Executing. Samus, it is only 0500 hours. Is there a reason you are wandering about without any clothes?"

She growled in frustration. "I'm alone in here and the door is locked. Not to mention everybody's asleep. I don't want to be expected to put on a fresh flight suit just to get a painkiller." She went from the sickbay to the galley, took a glass from the cabinet and filled it to the brim. "I just need a drink."

"Would you care to answer my question?" the computer pressed.

Samus finished the glass and filled it again. "I'm hot, I'm thirsty, and I can't get back to sleep. Neoprene doesn't feel comfortable when you're sweating. Even a dumb computer should understand that."

"I will not be fazed by insults, Samus."

She filled a third glass and drank it down before catching her breath. "I'm glad." She set the glass in the dishwasher and made her way to the cockpit, where she reclined in the pilot's chair.

"Shouldn't you be getting to sleep?" asked the computer.

"I'll just keep having that same nightmare over and over. Can you put some Lewiston Telescope photos onscreen?"

"Very good, Samus," the computer responded. A black sheet scrolled over the front viewport and began showing photos of the vast reaches of space, all taken by the Galactic Federation's prized orbital telescope, named after its sponsor, Elise Lewiston.

Galaxies faded in and out, binary star systems came into focus, and planets appeared and vanished again, each photo so detailed that one could magnify it enough to count the hairs on a dog's back. It relaxed her to watch the images, and she soon found herself asleep again.

Her dreams were not so horrible this time; she recollected her carefree youth with the Chozo, from her schooling to her coming of age to nearly falling in love with a charming Chozo boy. She remembered him calling her name over and over: "Samus…. Samus…. Samus…. Are you awake, Samus?"

"What? Awake? Unh." She blinked her eyes open to hear Anton calling her. He was inside the ship. How did he get onboard? She started to get up out of the chair, but realized she wasn't wearing anything. "Computer," she asked, "what time is it?"

It replied after a few moments of calculation. "0900 hours, Samus. There is an intruder onboard, assessed to be nonviolent because he is unarmed. What is your course of action?"

"Leave him; he's a guest."

"Very well."

She sighed and got out of the seat, hoping to make her way to the bedroom and put something on her body before Anton saw, but it was too late; he rounded the corner and looked right at her.

"Wow. Okay…."

Her face reddened with embarrassment as she tried to cover herself. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd wake you up," he replied. "We're going to the shooting range, remember?"

"Yes," she replied. "Let me get some clothes on and we'll go."

"Is that blue suit the only thing you have to wear?" he asked.

"Yes, but that's really none of your business."

He turned and made his way out, calling as he left, "You wait, and I'll be back. Don't move a muscle."

And she didn't.

When he returned she was standing there shivering, holding her hands in front of whatever she didn't want him to see. "I didn't mean that literally," he said.

"You could have told me that."

"Guess what I brought you?"

"What did you bring me?"

"You're no fun. Tada!" He held out a white shirt and a pair of short pants. "Now you get to assimilate yourself into the crew."

"I'll pass," she said, making her way to the bedroom and shutting the door in his face. "Computer, is the laundry done yet?"

"Negative."

She groaned. "How long will it take?"

"Approximately one hour. When you sweat that much, it's nigh impossible to remove the stink."

She growled and opened the door slightly and held out her hand. "All right, give me those." Anton handed the garments to her and she put them on, amazed at how comfortable they were. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. "I look pretty good if I don't say so myself." She wiggled her toes. "But now I don't have any shoes."

"You'll be fine," Anton called from the other side of the door. "Let's go! Our session starts at 0930 and we have only two hours!"

She opened the door and followed him out, thankful for the carpeted hallways of the _Chance_. "As comfortable as these clothes are," she commented, "I need some boots."

"I'll take you shopping later. But for now we need to get to the range. They usually don't let you in if you don't have shoes on, but they'll make an exception for you. Come on."

When they reached the shooting range, they were greeted by a guard; naturally, an onboard arsenal would have to be kept under close watch to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands. He looked at Anton, and then at Samus. "Bartram, you know this range is for enlisted persons only."

"She's fine, Taggart. It's her fault that Chief and I are alive."

"I still can't let her in without proper clearance from Captain Morrison."

"She's no civilian. She's almost a better fighter than Chief."

"I'll ring Morrison up and make it official. Hang on." He took a device from the wall and held it to his ear, explaining the situation to the captain after punching in a few numbers. He nodded several times and then hung up. "Well, the captain says you're good, so I guess I can let you in." He pressed a button and a buzzer sounded. "She's all yours."

"I am?" she wondered.

"He means the range," Anton explained.

She nodded and followed him to the range's armory, where hung rack upon rack of firearms, all a drab gray that threatened to drive Samus out of her mind. Anton took a pair of rifles from the wall and handed one to her. "I've never used one of these."

"You'll need ear protection and safety goggles," he replied, donning his protective gear. "And these things can have quite a kick." He took a box from another box and put the first into his rifle. "Don't forget your ammo."

She followed suit by putting on the earmuffs and goggles and loading the rifle, making sure to correctly insert the box of bullets. It was straightforward enough, but it helped that she saw Anton do it. She took her place next to him on the range and stared at the paper target a dozen yards in front of her. "Now what do I do?"

"Make sure the safety is off. Then set the bolt, aim, and fire."

She looked at the side of the rifle and found the safety, making sure it was off. She took hold the bolt after Anton showed her where it was, and manipulated it until it was in its correct place. She then took aim at the target, imitating Anton's stance, and fired off a shot.

The Covenant analogue on the target now bore a hole in its arm. She was aiming for its head.

"Loosen up, Samus." He squeezed the trigger and hit the target right in its throat. "Dead."

"Why are you always telling me to loosen up?" she asked. "This thing is big and clunky, and it hurts to shoot it." She massaged her shoulder, still wincing from the impact of the recoil.

"If you put a death grip on that trigger, you'll die before you kill anything. Not only that, but stress kills. You want the rifle to feel like it's weightless in your hands. Here, let me show you."

He was standing behind her again. She wanted to glare at him in such a way that would make him shrink off into a corner and cry, but she couldn't turn her head to see him well enough. He took hold of the rifle—and her hands—and gripped tight. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"I'm showing you what I mean. If you grip tight like this, your hands take the brunt of the recoil and put the rest where you don't want it." He squeezed the trigger and missed the target altogether, allowing the rifle to kick Samus in the shoulder once again.

"That hurt," she complained. "I blame you."

He ignored her. "Now loosen up your grip a bit. You want delicacy and finesse, not brute strength."

She did as instructed and aimed at the target. It felt as though the rifle would fall out of her hands, but Anton held it in place. "Now shoot." She did. And she hit the target square in the forehead.

"There," he said as he released her hands. "No big deal, right?"

"You're right," she replied, "accidentally" jamming the stock of the rifle down on his foot. "Nothing to it."

"Why did you do that?" he asked, gritting his teeth in pain.

"It was an accident," she lied.

"Well be careful next time."

"Samus Aran to the briefing room," said a voice over the ship's PA system. "Samus Aran to the briefing room."

"That's my cue," she replied, setting the safety on the rifle and leaning it against a wall. She was glad to be rid of him.

"Anton Bartram to the briefing room. Anton Bartram to the briefing room."

She groaned and slowed her pace, enough for him to catch up. "You go ahead; I need my suit."

"I can wait."

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Why would you want to wait for me?"

"You're cool. That's why I like hanging out with you."

The corner of her mouth tilted in a slight smile, and she kept walking to the docking bay where her gunship was housed. "Wait there; I'll be right out."

She went inside and to the bedroom. "Computer, is the laundry finished?"

"Yes, Samus," it replied.

She pulled off her clothes and tossed them on the bed, and then slipped into her flight suit, after which she donned her Varia suit. "It's good to be back inside you again," she said, stroking the armor affectionately; it was a second home to her.

"Come on," Anton urged.

"I'm coming," she replied, grabbing her helmet and running down the hall to the briefing room. She burst in, followed closely by Anton. "Sorry if we're late."

"What are you doing here?" Chief asked.

"We were paged," she replied.

"Cortana, did you have anything to do with this? Well, then who was it? Onyx. I should have known." He sighed. "You weren't supposed to be a part of this, but I guess we can't stop it.

"All right, listen up. This mission is a flash-in-the-pan raid on the _Judgment's Consequence_. We're after the flight logs, mission data, and now that Samus is with us, the Phazon. Cortana and I will go after the mission data, and Leigh and Davies will go after the flight logs."

"I guess that means we're together," Anton chuckled, elbowing Samus.

She glared at him and hoped to God that he wouldn't be coming along. She worked best alone. And the last thing she needed was for another person to get in her way.

Chief continued. "Bartram, you'll be going along with Leigh and Davies. Samus, you'll be going after the Phazon."

"Finally, a chance to destroy—"

"Just a minute. There will be no ordnance used on this mission. We are going to obtain the location of the Phazon and nothing else. If I can't trust you to do that much, I can't trust you."

She growled. "Fine."

"Any questions?"

"No, sir!" sounded the Marines in the room. But Samus was silent.

"Samus, any questions?" he repeated sternly.

"I have a few, but they don't pertain to the mission."

"Then you'll save them for after debriefing."

She glared at him, and she could tell he was glaring back. "Very well."

"Let's move out!"

Samus began to file out of the briefing room to the adjacent hangar with the rest of the Marines, but Chief grabbed her wrist. "Why don't you let go of me so that you can live?" she threatened.

"Nobody, and I mean _nobody_ undermines my authority. You had best heed my advice."

"You don't scare me," she retorted, jerking her arm away. "Without any fear, there is nothing the enemy can do to bring you down." She donned her helmet and walked into the hangar, joining the rest of the Marines on the Pelican.

Anton gave a brief introduction. To his left sat Private First Class John Davies. He was broad-shouldered and sturdily built. Even underneath his armor she could tell he was extremely muscular. And to Anton's left sat Corporal Jena Leigh, a calm and collected brunette with a smallish build and a penchant for firearms; she carried at least two handguns and an assault rifle.

When Chief was seated, the door was sealed and the Pelican lifted off. The ride across to the Covenant vessel was silent; there was no resistance, no warning of any kind from the Covenant or the Pirates. Something was wrong, and Samus was the only one that sensed it.

The Pelican lurched to a stop and the Marines sealed their helmets and the cabin was depressurized. The doors opened and they floated across to the engine hatch, which Cortana easily unlocked.

Once inside, they all split up. Chief made his way with Cortana to the mainframe computer to retrieve the mission data, and Anton went with the other two Marines, Leigh and Davies, to find the flight logs, which were stored on the navigation computer. Samus went after the Phazon.

She rolled into the morph ball and used its speed and agility to quickly traverse the numerous hallways, frequently consulting a map that Cortana sent her. Several times she came across a locked door, which Cortana remedied, and she was grateful for the AI.

Finally she came to the science bay. True to her hunch, she saw a tank full of metroids being infused with Phazon, which she confirmed by spectroscopy. She peered up over a counter and scanned several objects, taking in a myriad of information about the Covenant, the Pirates' research, and exactly what was happening.

She learned that the Space Pirates were joining the Covenant, adding their race to the organization. Not only that, but they were building an army of Phazon-infused Covenant soldiers, Pirates, and metroids, mutating and mutilating ad infinitum.

"Samus Aran to Master Chief," she called over the radio, activating an audio filter on her helmet to keep any sound from escaping. "I've found the Phazon. It's in the aft science bay."

"Roger," he replied. "Bartram, Leigh, Davies, what's your status?" Silence. "I repeat, what is your status?"

"We have the flight logs," Leigh replied. There was some manner of uncertainty and dread in her voice. "But something isn't right."

"Cortana, what do you think?"

"I agree," the AI replied. "There is something not quite right about this. None of us have been attacked."

"Then let's get out of here before they start shooting," Chief said urgently, then hailed their ship: "_Packrat_, do you read?" Silence. "_Packrat_, do you read?"

"Your pathetic transport ship is gone," a voice announced over the PA. "We shot it out of the sky just after it left. We know you're here and we know why you came."

Samus suddenly noticed several aliens standing around her crouched form. "Uh, Chief, watch your back, okay? We've got company."

"Now you will be a ransom," the voice echoed again. "If the Space Command really wants you, they will come after us."

"We're surrounded," Anton reported.

"Chief and I are too," Cortana added.

"We're not getting out of this without a fight."

"And now we will leave your friends behind." The ship lurched and Samus stood up when the motion was once again normal.

"What just happened here?" she asked, looking nervously at the aliens, who had their weapons trained on her head.

"I think we just jumped into hyperspace," Anton replied. "We're in deep crap."


	5. Scarlet Shirts

Samus's eyes darted from alien to alien, weapon to weapon. They were strange; like Pirate troopers but different. They carried different weapons, and spoke an organized language which she had never heard before. _What are these things?_ she thought as she scrutinized them.

"Samus, Marines," Chief said over the radio, "rendezvous by the aft engine room. We're no longer on a stealth mission; if it's Covenant, kill it."

"Or Pirate," Samus added.

"Or Pirate," Chief repeated. "We need to send a distress call to the _Chance_. It's our only hope."

The plan was ludicrous. But then again, Samus dealt with the impossible on a daily basis. She squeezed the trigger on her arm cannon, causing it to charge. "Let's do this."

She swung her arm cannon to the right, connecting it with the head of one of the aliens. He grunted in pain and tried to hit back, but she dodged the blow and released the charged ball of plasma on the alien's head, causing it to explode. The rest of the aliens began to attack, but she was faster. She rolled into the morph ball and laid all three bombs at once, then rolled out of the way just as they exploded and killed the lot of the aliens.

"Watch out for Elites," Anton said over the radio. "They're the tall ones with the plasma rifles."

"Are they just a bit taller than me?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Watch out for them."

"I already killed some. But thanks for the warning."

She reverted to her standing state and fired at a Covenant scientist who was observing one of the metroid cages. The shorter alien reeled from the impact and fell dead, but not before firing his pistol—and hitting the glass metroid cage. It shattered and released the two creatures it contained, and they promptly turned on her.

She delivered a pair of charged shots to one, but when it exploded the other became more agitated and lunged forward. It latched on, and the familiar searing pain set in as it drained her life, even through the metal of her Varia Suit.

She rolled into the sheltered morph ball and laid a bomb, detaching the cursed creature, and unloaded flurry of shots into its soft body. The energy overload had the desired effect and it exploded with a satisfying _pop_. "Watch out for metroids," she warned. "If one latches on, you're not waking up."

"Gotcha," Leigh replied. "Haven't seen anything but Elites and Grunts. They're the smaller ones."

_Grunts,_ she repeated silently, memorizing the classification of the smaller aliens.

"I've run into some Jackals," Chief replied. "The ones with the energy shields."

Samus hadn't seen one yet, but she remembered to associate the name with the fact that the aliens carried energy shields so that she could identify them when she did see them.

"When we get back to the _Chance_," Anton said, "we need to brief Samus on the various Covenant units."

"Not to mention the Flood," Davies commented. "I've been through two Halos. And I bet there are more out there crawling with the beasts."

"Information overload," commented Samus. "Save it for the next briefing, guys. Cortana, do you know if there's a map station here?"

"Pardon?" the AI replied.

"It's a place where I can download a map of the area."

"I don't know about that, but I can upload a map of the _Judgment's Consequence_ to you."

"Thank you."

A warning flashed on her visor that an intruder was trying to access her suit's systems—much to the same tune as the warning she remembered from the Luminoth Rezbits that tried time and again to infect her suit with a virus. But this time she knew the intruder was none other than Cortana and the file to be uploaded was nothing more than a map of the ship, so she put a few commands into the keyboard on her arm cannon and let Cortana through.

Moments later she had the complete topographical map, and she took a brief look at it before moving on. The aft engine room that was marked on the map was a different one than the entry point had been. It was further out of the way. She rolled her eyes and muttered, "Story of my life," as she quickly plotted her course. Several sharp, heavy footsteps echoed in the room and convinced her to leave.

She stowed the map and turned to follow her plotted course, but a large blue object blocked her way. She looked up. And up. And up again. Finally she saw the alien's beady eyes staring at her from atop a long, orange neck. "Hi, there," she said nervously.

It just growled.

"I'm Samus."

It just growled.

"Will you kindly step out of the way?"

It just growled.

She clenched her fist on the trigger and held it down. Her arm cannon charged. "I'll have to move you, then."

The alien emitted a low rumble as it raised its gargantuan shield. It was pockmarked and bloodstained, and appeared to be made out of a bit of the hull of a UNSC capital ship. Not only that, but it could crush her without effort. Its head retracted and became flush with the armor it wore, and several three- and four-foot long spikes became erect on its back.

In a split-second, almost reflexive reaction, Samus rolled into the morph ball and boosted herself around the alien's widely-planted feet. She rolled out behind it, stood back up, and shot it in the back where the armor exposed its orange flesh. It grumbled and died.

"Anton," she said over the radio, "I'm eight feet tall, blue, and I have a shield as big as you. Who am I?"

"Did you run into a Hunter?" he replied.

"I guess so," she said. "Is that what the big blue things are called?"

"If they're so big that they won't fit through the door to your gunship, then yes."

_Hunters,_ she memorized, taking one last look at the lifeless hulk before moving on.

She made her way through the halls to the rendezvous point—or so she thought. But a wrong turn landed her in the frying pan. She went through a door she thought would lead to the aft engine room she wanted, but it opened to the mess hall. No less than four dozen pairs of eyes turned to her, and no less than four dozen weapons hummed to life: plasma pistols and rifles, plasma swords, and the strange rifles that shot fluorescent pink crystal shards.

"I'll be going now," she said nervously as she made a step to leave. She dashed away amidst a flurry of flying plasma, and many of the aliens followed her.

There were too many to beat, and she was forced to turn and shoot sporadically as she ran. She felled a few of them, but each one that died was just replaced by another. At last she was unable to keep her pace and keep the aliens at bay, so she sheltered herself in the morph ball and shot forward, laying bombs as she went.

She periodically checked the map for her path and made her way to the rendezvous point, using a series of convoluted switchbacks and side halls to avoid her assailants. Finally she was certain she was no longer being followed, and she returned to her walking stance. To make sure she was alone, she turned around and looked over her shoulder. Then she ran into a wall.

Or at least, she thought it was a wall. But when she heard the cocking of a rifle, she squeezed the trigger and charged her arm cannon, aiming it at whoever was going to kill her as she sat on the ground, shaking the daze from her head.

"Samus, hold your fire!" Chief ordered.

Her vision cleared and she saw the familiar green-clad soldier staring at her and holding his weapon at the ready. "I'm sorry," she said, letting the charge dissipate. "Do you know where Anton is?"

"Eat lead, you freaks!" a voice shrieked, followed by gunfire.

"That would be him," she smirked, recognizing the voice.

Anton continued his tirade. "Is that all you've got? Bring it! Ouch! You'll pay for that, you dirty…!" His curses were drowned by gunfire.

Leigh and Davies came running down the hall. "We miss anything?"

"I found the mess hall," Samus replied. "Naturally, they wanted fresh meat, so they chased me."

Anton loosed an inhuman yell. "Die!"

"He's fine," Leigh said.

"That's what I'm talkin' about!" Anton yelled as an alien's death cry rang in the air. He walked out of the door nonchalantly, a wisp of smoke rising from the barrel of his rifle. "They didn't stand a chance."

"Grunts?" she bantered.

"Brutes, actually," Davies explained. "Leigh is jealous."

"I am not jealous," she retorted.

"Why would she be jealous?" Samus asked.

"She didn't fire a shot," Davies chuckled. "Bartram sure is great at going for the head."

"I did fire shots, and I killed three Hunters," Leigh muttered. "Three! And yet I get no credit."

"That's because you didn't use six clips like I did," Anton taunted. "You used only three bullets."

"That just proves her experience," Chief said. "Now we need to go to the communications room and send a distress call. We're a squad now, and I'm in charge. All of you follow my lead."

A sneer crept across Samus's face. "I'm not enlisted, so technically I don't have to."

"I am the executive officer here. I am making an executive decision. Upon agreeing to accompany us on this mission you were drafted at least temporarily into the ranks of the UNSC Marine Corps. You have no choice but to follow my orders, or I'll jail you for insubordination."

Her mouth hung open. She was shocked. She was appalled. She was furious. Her grip tightened on the trigger to her arm cannon, but she made sure not to push it down for fear of causing friendly fire casualties. She gritted her teeth and said, "Yes, sir."

"Once we reach the communications room I will let Cortana hack into their computer and find our destination. We will then output the distress call to the _Chance_, and the _Chance_ alone. This operation is classified top secret, and we mustn't let any other UNSC personnel discover it."

"Why is it—?"

"That is privileged information, Samus. Not even the captain knows the reason. I do, but, like I said, I am privileged to know it."

"Fine. Where's the communications room?"

"It is located near the bridge."

She sighed in disgust. "Why can't these things be easy?"

"It's an adventure!" Anton said gleefully, slapping her on the back. "It'll be fun."

"Amen," Leigh said, producing a pair of plasma pistols that she had filched from an unlucky pair of Jackals. "Let's give them Hell."

"Samus, do you have any ordnance?"

She had five missiles. "Not much."

"We've all got a few plasma grenades on us, and there are plenty more where those came from. Are we ready?"

The answer was a unanimous "Yes."

"Then let's move out." He signaled for them to take an offensive formation, and they made their way along the path to the communications room.

They encountered the standard resistance for the most part: Grunts, Jackals and Elites. There was an occasional Brute or Hunter thrown into the mix, but they were no match for the squad's teamwork and firepower.

Finally they reached the communications room. It was filled with monitors, terminals, and computers, both of Covenant and Pirate origin. Samus went over to one and scanned it, retrieving a log of recent transmissions. She read through it once her suit's onboard computer translated it, looking for some hint of the _Judgment's Consequence_'s destination. One name stood out several times: Lanthana.

"What's Lanthana?" she asked, curious.

"Good Lord," Leigh muttered, "don't tell me that's where we're headed."

"Why?"

"Lanthana is deep in Covenant space, a desolate wasteland with uninhabitable deserts, overgrown bogs, ruined cities, and an abandoned stronghold where we once had a footing but don't anymore. The only thing it's really good for is mining Lanthanum, which is what the rock was named after."

"Why would you want to mine it?"

"It was used in experiments with particle and energy weapons. Those experiments, however, were a total sham. The dang stuff's too soft to have any real use in the military field. When I was in high school we called it 'steel cheese' because we could slice it like a block of cheddar."

Davies added, "It is, however, used to treat the hulls of ships to absorb harmful extraneous radiation and protect it from small debris impacts, and we also use it to treat the lenses of our orbital telescopes. Helps improve the picture."

"Will you ladies stop clowning around and help me out?" Chief barked. "I'm sure the physical and chemical properties of Lanthanum is a fascinating subject, but we're about to get our cans handed to us on a silver platter by an entire Covenant and Space Pirate conglomerate force. We may stand a slim chance if we get this distress call sent out."

"I'll alert the Galactic Federation," Samus said. She stepped up to one of the Pirate terminals and detached her arm cannon and set it aside, freeing her right hand. It felt strange to type with one hand clad in steel and the other naked as the day she was born, but it was far better than the alternatives: either type with one hand or use her hand and the arm cannon in conjunction, potentially smashing the terminal in the process.

She quickly entered the message: "Samus Aran with team of Earth soldiers in trouble. Rescue. Destination: planet Lanthana," along with the planet's coordinates. She knew the mention of her name and the words "trouble" and "rescue" would bring an armada to the Pirates' doorstep. She sent off the call and said, "I've got the GF. What about you?"

"I'm having trouble with this terminal," Cortana said over the radio. "The language is foreign."

"Let me at it," Samus said, shoving Chief out of the way and tapped her fingers rapidly on the screen. "There, I've cracked it. I'll just send the—" A large green object collided with her, knocking her off balance. "Chief, what gives?"

"With all due respect, Samus," he replied, "we don't have time to fool around. Oh perfect, I locked myself out again."

"With all due respect, Chief," she retorted, "you don't know your end from a hole in the ground. Now step aside and let me work." She shoved him out of the way again.

He shoved her back. "I am in charge here."

She shoved him again. "I don't care."

He shoved again. "You will follow orders as long as you are in my company."

He turned and started to walk away, and she shouted, "I don't take orders from egotistical swine like you!"

He turned around and raised his rifle defensively. "Care to say that to my face?"

"How do I know you even have one when you're hiding behind that visor?"

"Enough!" Cortana interrupted. "Shut up and get that distress call out. I can't do it because I can't understand the language the computer is speaking, and Chief can't do it because I can't get him in and whenever he tries something he gets locked out again. It's up to you, Samus."

She just stood there and stared at Chief with her arms crossed.

Cortana growled in frustration. "I've been monitoring the chatter, and the Covenant and the Pirates are sending a whole platoon of soldiers this way. I don't care to die."

"You're nothing more than a computer program," Samus jabbed.

"And you're the one who decides whether we live or die. Now send the call!"

She stepped in front of the terminal and typed a hasty message, which she sent almost grudgingly. "Are you happy?"

A loud clang echoed in the room, emanating from the door. "Heeeeere's Johnny!" Anton said, shouldering his rifle and putting his finger on the trigger. "Duck and cover, people!"

Samus crouched behind a terminal and went to switch weapons to her missile launcher, but realized her cannon was several yards away resting on another terminal. She was about to run for the weapon when the room exploded with gunfire. Plasma flew, bullets popped, and grenades exchanged hands. "I don't have my cannon!" she shouted.

"I'll cover you!" Anton offered, sidling over to her and crouching beside her. "When I say 'go', make a run for it. Ready? Go!"

She rolled into the morph ball and rolled as fast as she could to the terminal, but not before getting hit several times. Her suit's heads-up-display let her know of the unfortunate shield degradation, but she took it in stride; without her cannon she was worse off than dead—she was a sitting duck.

She stood and grabbed the weapon off the terminal where she had left it, hurriedly reattaching it to her suit, and rolled into the morph ball, making her way to where Anton was now starved for adequate cover. This time she would be ready.

She jumped back into her normal form and switched to the missile launcher. "Five shots," she thought aloud, firing off one of the glorified grenades. It impacted a Grunt, killing it instantly and causing collateral damage that rapidly took down two Elites. "Four shots."

She switched to her power beam and fired rapidly at the aliens, hitting with pinpoint accuracy. Occasionally a few of them would group together behind a wall of Elites, using the taller aliens' energy shields to their advantage. A missile easily took care of each of those groups, but Samus quickly found herself out of ordnance. In the midst of the fray lay countless plasma grenades, dropped by the defeated enemies. For her, looking at them was like trying to drag a starving kid away from a candy store window. At last, she couldn't resist.

She dashed out into the tumult and scooped up several grenades, tossing them inactive to her squadmates but failing to collect any for herself; she was right-handed and throwing with her left hand was like throwing with her forehead—uncoordinated and inaccurate.

From out of the chaos she heard Anton's desperate cry for help: "My rifle's jammed! I've got a big thing breathing down my neck! Samus, do you mind?"

She instantly turned his way, only to see an eight-foot-tall Pirate commando staring hungrily at Anton, who was white with fear. "Grenade!" she called, jumping forward. He tossed one her way. She caught it and stuffed it in the barrel of her arm cannon, landing between him and the Pirate. She delivered an uppercut to the alien's jaw, causing it to roar in protest. She stuffed her cannon into its open mouth and fired the grenade down its throat, knowing its armor would be impenetrable by even her charge beam.

"Duck!" she said, kicking the alien back and prostrating herself on the ground next to Anton. The moment the fuse on the grenade expired, the alien's torso exploded in a bloody mess.

"Thanks a lot," Anton said sarcastically.

"Would you rather be covered in slime or drowning in your own blood?"

"In that case, I guess I owe you."

The firing stopped. "Clear!" Leigh shouted.

Samus returned to her feet and looked around the room. Bloody bodies of Covenant and Pirate soldiers, along with countless weapons, littered the floor. "Is it over?" she asked.

"That was either the first wave," Leigh replied, "or we're about to land. I vote for the latter, since I've used most of my ammo." The ship lurched, throwing the group into a nearby wall. "Yeah," she said, regaining her footing, "we're landing."

"All right," Chief said, "we're getting off this thing. The Covenant uses a gravity lift to ferry troops and supplies back and forth between the ship and the ground. That's our ticket out of here. I want Leigh and Davies behind me. Bartram, Samus, watch our six. Now move out and follow me."

As the rest of the squad started moving, Samus wrinkled her nose at the use of military jargon. "Six?"

Anton sighed. "Means six o'clock—behind us. It's the ol' CYA maneuver. Basically, all we do is kill whatever's following us. We're wearing red shirts now."

"Red shirts?"

"We're expendable, honey. Leigh and Davies have a service record of twenty years apiece. I've got less than a year's worth of field experience." He slapped her on the back. "Nice knowin' ya."


	6. Lanthana

"Chief, are you sure you want them bringing up the rear?" Cortana asked.

He rolled his eyes. "They'll be able to handle themselves."

"I think you're punishing Samus for defying your authority."

"You know me better than that. I put Samus back there because she has the most powerful weapon of us all. Leigh, how many rounds do you have?"

She checked the weapons she still had. "I tossed my Covenant secondaries. I have sixty in my rifle and three in my pistol. It sounds like it's time to start improvising."

"Davies?"

"I'm just about spent. I've got a few clips for my pistol, but that's it."

Chief sighed. "I spent my secondaries as well. I have a full rifle clip, but my pistol is out. We need to melee the bogies and take their weapons. Leigh, I know you're packing a knife. Use it." He saw a red dot on the radar circle of his heads-up-display, and heard an Elite and a Grunt arguing around the corner. He put a finger up to his visor, telling the rest of the group to stay quiet. He sidled along the wall and took his rifle by the stock.

He glanced around the corner and saw that the Elite was conveniently standing just within arm's reach. He swung the rifle, connecting with the back of the Elite's neck, shattering the bones and bringing the alien to its demise. He jumped out into the open and took the Grunt down with a short spray of bullets, and then tossed his pistol for the Elite's plasma rifle. He signaled for the company to move out, and struck out down the hall on the trek to the gravity lift.

This ship was almost a perfect replica layout-wise of the _Truth and Reconciliation_, the ship he infiltrated on the quest to destroy the first Halo. He half-expected the grotesque, rotting corpses of fellow Marines, possessed by the parasitic Flood, to jump out of a doorway and lay a barrage of attacks on him. He longed for a shotgun, and thought about asking Leigh if she brought one, but she would have used it already if she had.

It didn't make any sense whatsoever that the Covenant wasn't attacking. There wasn't even an occasional Jackal patrolling the halls. He theorized it could mean they would ambush at any moment, but nothing happened. Finally, as the group came to a balcony overlooking the gravity lift, he saw why: the entire ship was being unloaded. Personnel, cargo, weapons, and equipment were being shoved into the lift one at a time. "This rock isn't as dead as we thought," he muttered.

"Is that the lift?" Samus asked, rejoining the party with Anton. "I thought it would be a platform we would stand on."

"You just jump into the hole and enjoy the ride," Leigh explained. "It's a bit harrowing the first time, but then again, I've done it a few times."

"Why are they all debarking?" Davies wondered.

"I'd suffer a guess that there's a large Covenant operation here," Chief replied. "Either that, or they're setting something up. It might be a while before we can claim the lift for ourselves."

"Wake me when it's over," Anton said, leaning against a nearby wall.

Chief watched as the soldiers and equipment trickled out. Finally, a pair of Elites was all that remained. He gave the order to move out, and took the lead, his rifle at the ready. He kept his eyes open and his hearing sharp as he descended the ramped hallways to the lift. Naturally, the door was locked, but Cortana made short work of the security protocols the Covenant had set in place.

The only thing that stood between him and the gravity lift was a troupe of Brutes. He readied his rifle, but they didn't attack. "What are you waiting for?" he muttered, waiting for them to shoot, but they didn't.

Did they see him? Would he be able to reach the lift without being attacked? There was only one way to find out. He signaled for the rest of the squad to move out, and he moved toward the lift. He was confident that he'd been seen, and he waited for some sort of action on the Brutes' part, but none came. They just stood in his way with their arms crossed.

"What are you waiting for?" Anton muttered.

"Shut up, Bartram," Chief retorted. He slowed his run and walked up to one of the Brutes.

"Where do you think you're going?" it said in English.

"Get out of my way," Chief replied.

"Nice try, stupid," the Brute chuckled. "We're on orders from the Prophets themselves. Nobody in or out."

"Why aren't you shooting us?"

"Same to you."

"I'm not shooting because you're not shooting. Perhaps we could work something out."

"You're prisoners aboard this lovely vessel. The Prophets have plans for you, especially the woman."

"What would you want with Leigh?"

"The one in the armor, you idiot. She is the one that has the secrets of the Chozo. The Prophets want her alive, but those blasted heretical Sangheili are once again questioning the Prophets' will."

"So you won't kill me?" Samus asked, stepping forward.

"Of course we won't, but we won't let you off the ship. And if you try to get past us, we will have to use force."

"Well," Chief said, "we'll have to get past you."

The Brute raised his rifle and put it to Chief's visor. "Then we'll have to start shooting."

Samus tightened her grip on the trigger. Chief stood there, weapon at the ready, with the Brute's plasma rifle pressed to his visor. One false move could send the entire party to the grave. She had to act fast and disarm the 9-foot-tall behemoth, but nothing she could do presented a favorable outcome.

She couldn't wait any longer, and she squeezed the trigger, charging her power beam. This drew the Brute's attention, and he trained his rifle on her. "Release that shot and I will do what is necessary to ensure orders are followed."

She swept her cannon forward and trained it on the Brute's head. "Will you kill me and defy your Prophets' will?"

"I won't kill you, but I'll kill your friends and put you unconscious so that you won't put up a fight. A puny woman like you won't stand a chance against my men and me."

She smirked. "Wanna bet?" She discharged the shot, hitting the Brute in the head and killing him, knocking him backward into the gravity lift, where he slowly floated to the surface. His compatriots immediately produced their rifles and unleashed a volley of fire. Several shots grazed her armor, but left it relatively undamaged as she rolled into the morph ball and out of the way, laying bombs as she went.

She stood again and tapped her finger repeatedly on the trigger, sweeping her arm as she toppled Brute after Brute with the stream of Chozo firepower. In the midst of the action, she lost track of friend and foe, and she suddenly found herself shoving a charged ball of plasma in Chief's face. He returned the gesture with his rifle.

"Bravo!" Anton said, his applause echoing in the empty hangar as he leaned against a wall with Leigh and Davies. "Encore! I loved the part when friend turned on friend. It was a riveting performance to say the least!"

"Shut up," Chief barked. "Everybody into the lift."

The soldiers eagerly walked over to the lift and stepped in one by one. But Samus and Chief didn't. "After you," she said defiantly.

Chief didn't move. "One rule of combat: you _never_ take the first shot. We could have found a way to negotiate with those Brutes."

"Would you rather have lost your head? I saved your life. You owe me."

"I owe you nothing. Not even a debt of gratitude."

She leaned forward and put a stiff finger in his face. "In case you didn't already realize, I don't like you. You mess with me, and you mess with the Galactic Federation."

He grabbed her wrist and moved it out of the way with painful force. "You mess with me, and you mess with the United Nations Space Command. I can break your arm without much effort on my part. If you agree to step into the lift like a good girl, I'll let go of you."

She jerked her wrist away. "As you wish, your highness." She stepped into the lift and rode it to the bottom. "Well that was disappointing," she remarked when she stepped out of the glow.

"Oh come on," Anton chaffed. "That was awesome!"

"Not really."

"Live a little."

"All right, you two," Chief said as he touched down. "Cortana informs me that the Covenant and the Space Pirates have combined their weapons so that the Covenant can use the Pirate weapons and vice versa."

"That means I'll be able to integrate the various Covenant weapons into my arm cannon," Samus interrupted. "But I'll have to find the suit upgrades."

"Let me make this clear, Aran," Chief replied angrily. "We are not taking any wild-goose chase detours in search of special weapons for your suit. There will be other opportunities. Our objective is to get out into the open for exfil. Our people can't get us if they don't know where we are."

"Where are we, anyway?" Anton wondered.

"My dad was stationed here," Leigh explained. "I'd bet were in the middle of the Bugsucker Bog."

"Nice name," Anton quipped.

"In the summer, the insects are so thick that if you take a deep breath you'll inhale at least ten. Hence the name."

Samus looked around at the scenery. Despite the fact that it was night and one of the only light sources was the glow of the gravity lift before her, the place had an eerie likeness to the Torvus Bog on Aether. She was tempted to say, "Keep your eyes peeled for Grenchlers," but refrained.

Chief gave the order to move out, and they did. Almost immediately they encountered a low-lying wetland. Samus and Chief were unfazed by the knee-deep water, and Leigh and Davies knew not to complain, but Anton put up a major fuss. "Just be glad this isn't hydrochloric acid," Davies muttered.

"What about the rotting entrails of a thousand festering corpses?" Chief said, masking his disgust. "Be glad you're not going through the Library on Halo. I've been through two of them. Alone."

"Well I've been up against an entire Space Pirate mining operation," Samus replied. "I was surrounded by raw Phazon, always being shot at while the radiation corroded my suit."

"This conversation will get nowhere," Chief muttered. "I suggest we end it."

She smiled, having completed her objective. The quieter she kept him, the better she would fare in the swamp.

Unlike the Torvus Bog on Aether, here there seemed to be no sentient life. She scanned everything she could, but the suit's onboard computer found nothing but vegetation. But something caught her eye under a tangled mass of roots: it was a glowing orange object, giving off a familiar sound.

"I'll be right back," she said, rolling into the morph ball and under the roots. She pushed the object out into the open water and stood back up, then grabbed it and held it up. It was just what she thought. "This is familiar," she explained. "One of my favorite gadgets: the missile expansion." She pushed several buttons on the expansion and watched as it evaporated in her hand, energizing her suit with its energy. Her heads-up-display now showed that she could carry ten missiles, and that she held five of them. "It's an upgrade and an ammunition package in one convenient device."

"So we have more ordnance now?" Leigh asked.

"Exactly."

Her heads-up-display blinked, indicating her onboard scanners had found something of interest. She looked at the computer's report and saw that the scanners had found the location of a weapons research center. She tried to resist, but the blip on her map was so close to her current position that she couldn't pass it up. "I know where the armory is," she said. "If you want fresh weapons, follow me." She turned and leapt up onto a fallen log, searching for a door. Finally she saw the familiar cyan glow. But just as she was about to fire on the shield and tell the door to open, something knocked her to the ground.

"What did I say?" Chief growled, holding her to the ground with a hand firmly pressed on her chest. "You will stay in formation!"

"The armory is through that door," she said. "I overheard you talking about your low ammunition, and I think we'll be much better off if we replenished our supplies."

"I heard the word 'armory' and I came running," Leigh said, joining the party. "I can't stand being low on ammo."

"Where are the guns?" Anton asked, crawling over the log. "I've got about five shots left, and son of a—!" _Thud!_ He fell off the log and connected with the ground. "…and I want to see what the Covenant has been doing."

Davies dropped to the ground next to him. "We're all here, Chief. We might as well see what she's got."

Chief grumbled and let her up, and she dusted herself off. "As I was just telling your commanding officer, the armory is through that door." She motioned with her cannon. "None of you can open it."

"Then we're wasting our time," Chief muttered.

"On the contrary," she snickered. "_I_ can open it quite easily." She squeezed off a shot and the blue shield turned off, opening the door. "All right, everybody in."

The research lab was deserted, much to her surprise. The Marines took everything they could: both Covenant and Pirate weapons in forms they could use. Chief took an energy scythe and a Brute rifle, in addition to a reconditioned version of the Wave Beam that was left over from Pirate research on Tallon IV.

Samus's attention, however, was drawn to a bank of packages that floated in suspension fields. She scanned each of them and saw that they were able to upgrade her suit. The only ones that she took—the ones that she didn't have corresponding weapons for—were the Plasma Sword, Needler, and Brute Rifle, all designed to integrate into the Space Pirate armor, which meant she could make use of them.

She hurriedly integrated them into her suit, testing each one to make sure it would work. They had been named corresponding somewhat to their Covenant counterparts: the Melee Beam, the Shard Beam, and the Brute Beam, and her favorite was by far the Melee Beam. It gave her a sense of power and was a new experience for her, though she was a bit disappointed that it wasn't a ranged weapon.

Another weapon caught her eye: it was definitely not of Pirate origin, and it didn't seem to be purely Covenant. Upon closer inspection she realized that it was in fact of Chozo design, and had been modified to fire the Covenant grenades. She reached out and took it, and added it to her arsenal, puzzling over the possible reasons the Covenant might have a Chozo weapon.

What the Brute guarding the gravity lift said about her came to mind: "She is the one that has the secrets of the Chozo." It disturbed her to even speculate that the Covenant would be trying to use the race's benevolent power for evil.

"Shall we move on?" Chief pressed.

"Yes," she replied, opening the door for the waiting Marines. Chief and she easily jumped up onto the log, but the rest of the Marines had some difficulty climbing up. Chief reached down for Leigh and Davies, but left Anton to fend for himself.

"What about me?" he whined. "Surely you won't leave me behind."

Disgusted at Chief's behavior, Samus reached down, and Anton took her hand. She pulled him up and onto the log. "Thanks," he said quietly.

"You're welcome," she replied as they hopped down from the log and followed the other Marines.

"I don't see why Chief is so afraid of you," he said, shaking his head. "You're a great person: skilled, beautiful, fun to be with, kindhearted…." He trailed off with a sigh. "If the universe was full of people like you, there would be no need for war."

"And yet," she added, "someone dies every day because of monsters like the Space Pirates."

"They're just jealous of those who are more fortunate than they."

"Do you have any idea what the Covenant would want with me?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Perhaps they want to reverse-engineer your suit. I have no doubt the Pirates told them about you and all you can do."

"I don't think it's that," she replied. "They said something about the Prophets. Who are they?"

"They are the hierarchs," he explained. "They're the ones who pull all the strings. Let me tell you, their religion is one wacky set of beliefs. My question for you is who are the Chozo?"

She sighed. "They are… Well, they _were_ a race of peaceful beings. They wanted to "rule the universe", much like the Pirates, but not through conquest and power. They wanted to spread knowledge and peace, to unify the universe under one banner. Unfortunately they are extinct.

"I was taken in by the Chozo as a baby, and they infused me with Chozo blood. They raised me, taught me how to fight—even a peaceful race needs to be able to defend itself—and they taught me how to live. Some time ago I saw the last remnants of one of their prized sanctuaries, Tallon IV, crumble under the Pirates' evil. It was like they tore out my heart. And yet, I saved the planet from further corruption by killing Metroid Prime."

"Who is that?"

"Metroid Prime was responsible for the Phazon on Tallon IV. It came to the planet on a meteor, and poisoned the Chozo that lived there. They were able to contain it, but once the Pirates came, everything they worked so hard to do was undone. I alone was able to repair the damage, to close the rift the creature caused…but I could not bring back my Chozo brothers." She sighed. "The void of death is a place I never wish to venture."

"Well I'll make sure you don't set foot anywhere near it for a very long time."

She felt something squeeze her left hand, and she looked down. Anton had taken it and now gripped it tightly. Even through the cold metal, she felt that his hand was warm. _This might not be so bad_, she thought. But then a painful memory from her teenage years freshened in her mind. _No, don't get attached. You'll only get hurt in the end._ She slipped her hand out of his and made it look like she was making adjustments to her arm cannon's targeting system, but in reality she was pushing buttons idly, with no purpose in mind.

"Oh crap," Anton muttered. "Where's the squad?"

She looked up, and realized they had lost Chief and the others. "Cortana," she asked over the radio, not wanting to talk to Chief, "where did everybody go? Do you have a map for me?"

"We were looking for you," Chief replied. "When I told you to bring up the rear, I didn't mean for us to leave you behind. And no, Cortana doesn't have a map of this place, or we'd be out of here by now."

"What's your twenty, Chief?" Anton asked.

"We're about half a click northwest, and we've come to another one of those shield doors. We're up a creek without Samus."

Samus glanced at the map that her onboard computer had created by constantly scanning the surroundings and saving the data. "There's a door at the far end of this corridor," she explained. "They must be there.

"How do you know?"

"My suit has a computer that constantly scans my surroundings and provides a three-dimensional map of the area based on accessible terrain." She hit him in the shoulder. "I'll race you to the end."

"You certainly won't beat me," he chaffed, and he sprinted forward. She found it a challenge to pass him, but she managed to reach the door before he did without rolling into the speedier morph ball.

"You'll have to eat your words," she chuckled.

"Only if you cook, my sweet," he sneered.

"Are you going to open this door or what?" Leigh grumbled. "This place reeks of rotting plants."

Samus delivered a shot to the door and it slid open. Chief went in first, followed by Leigh, then Davies, and Anton encouraged Samus to go in before him. "That's awfully gentlemanly of you," she thanked. "But then again you may be eager for me to go in first so that I'll take any fire."

"Awfully untrusting of you, eh?"

"I call them as I see them."

She looked around to find herself in the midst of a textbook Space Pirate installation. Her scans indicated there was a research facility, a heavily guarded command center, and a gaping hole in the wall that led to a perfect landing site. Wait, that wasn't normal. "I found a way out," she said. "My scanners found a suitable site for exfil. If you'll let me lead the way, I'll take you right to it."

"I don't think so," Chief replied. "You will give me the coordinates. I want you back there so Bartram doesn't get himself killed."

"If you ask me," she snorted, "this isn't very good squad dynamics. I may be used to working alone, but the Chozo had a perfect tactical system that they taught me well. We move as a unit; nobody runs ahead, and nobody falls behind. If you run ahead you are too eager to fight and you will reap what you sew: the enemy will make short work of you because they too are eager to fight. And if you fall behind, the enemy will prey upon your fear and cowardice for their sustenance. United we stand and divided we fall, for there is strength in numbers."

"I'm no Confucius but she's got a point," Leigh said.

"The corridor is too narrow to move as a unit," Chief replied skeptically. "We can hardly walk two abreast."

"Well it's going to open up really soon," Samus said, looking at her map.

The voice of Captain Morrison came over the radio: "This is the _Chance_. We have a Pelican _en route_ for exfil. How are you guys doing down there?"

"We're fine," Chief replied. "No casualties, though we have some friendly fire directed at my authority." He turned and looked at Samus, no doubt glaring at her. "Do you have our coordinates?"

"Negative; they're jamming our scanners. You'll have to find us."

"Captain, this is Samus Aran," she said. "I have coordinates for a suitable exfil site. You may come under fire, but the defenses are minuscule." She relayed the coordinates to him. "We can be there in five minutes."

Another voice came over the radio. "This is Lieutenant O'Flaherty aboard the Pelican _Naïve Parisian_. That landing site is a negative, Miss Aran; those coordinates will not work. They are behind an energy barrier that we cannot penetrate."

"Hold off, _Parisian_. I'll have the shield deactivated in no time at all." She quickly scanned the surrounding area and spotted a ventilation duct that led out of the room. "I'll be right back," she said. "Don't leave without me." She rolled into the morph ball and jumped up into the shaft, and rolled down it until she was dropped into the room that housed the colossal generator for the defense shield. The Pirates knew she was here, and so the generator was heavily guarded by armored Pirate commandos. Without a word she engaged in combat, dodging their first shot and then firing one of her own.

It seemed the fight would never end, but finally she was able to shatter the hardened Phazite armor of the last commando and put him out of his misery. This, however, did not solve her problems; the generator was naturally invulnerable to her weapons, and she couldn't find a way to destroy it, not even by scanning it from every angle.

She dashed over to a nearby data terminal and interfaced with it, telling her suit's computer to mine the base's neural network. Nothing of immediate use was found, though much was uncovered about the Pirates' and Covenant's new alliance, but finally a single sentence about the shield generator shed some light on the way to destroy it: "We made the access hatch to the generator's power source out of Talloric Alloy. Not even the accursed Samus Aran can sabotage us now."

_Oh, how naïve you are,_ Samus thought. She had found the access hatch in question by scanning the generator, and she knew exactly what to do: she rolled into the morph ball and laid a bomb right next to the hatch. Just as expected, the metal stressed, fractured, and caved in.

"Generator breach," said the base's computer over the PA system. She chose to ignore it, though, since the mere presence of the _Chance_ would trigger a wave of hostile reinforcements. She rolled to the end of the corridor and found the generator's power supply in a nearby room. The shield was effectively held up by a rat's nest of wires and solder, and it was no big deal to bring it down; she took hold of the bulk of the wires and yanked.

Sparks flew and the base's lights instantly shut off. "What the hell was that?" Chief asked.

"I think I made a wrong move," Samus replied.

"The base shield is down," said Lt. O'Flaherty from the _Naïve Parisian_. "Thank you for your effort. We will be at the exfil site momentarily."

"Don't leave without me," Samus reinforced. "I'll be back before the Pelican gets here." She rolled back into the morph ball and boosted her way through the corridors, dodging fire as she went. Finally she reached the rest of the party, and she led them to the wall breach that would spell their freedom.

But they didn't see a UNSC rescue party or a Galactic Federation extraction squad. They were instead greeted by an army of angry Covenant and Pirate soldiers standing at the hole in the wall. The aliens readied their weapons, but Samus knew they wanted her alive. She used this to her advantage and charged.

Sure enough, the enemies' shots weren't directed at her in the least bit. Instead they made their way in the direction of the other Marines, who were easily able to slip past the opposing forces under the cover of the darkness.

They reached the exfil site just as the Pelican touched down. Chief was the first in, and he helped Davies and then Leigh into the cargo hold, but rather unsurprisingly left Samus and Anton to fend for themselves. She jumped in and then turned for Anton, but didn't see him next to her as she expected.. He was pinned down by hostiles several yards away. "I won't make it!" he shouted over the roar of plasma fire.

"Then I'll cover you!" Samus said, and she changed weapons to the Pirate version of the Brute Rifle. It was considerably more powerful than her power beam, and it quickly took the Grunts and Jackals down to size. The few Elites in the crowd didn't hesitate to run for cover, and the Hunters just stood and took the fire, but the gargantuan beasts carried weaponry that didn't fire fast enough to be effective against the lone Marine.

When he reached the Pelican, Samus held out her hand and he graciously took it and pulled himself up just as the Pelican lifted off. "Thanks," he replied. "I guess we're even."

"Welcome aboard," the pilot remarked. Samus recognized his voice to be that of Lt. O'Flaherty. "I'm amazed you guys survived that. We'll have to make a note of…hang on, something just came out of hyper right here near the planet. I'll putt Morrison on the squawk."

He flipped a switch and the captain's voice barked over the radio, "…don't care what their banner is. I just want to know whether they're hostile. You don't know? Then perhaps I should paint a bull's eye on your forehead and strap you to the hood! Maybe _then_ you can tell me whether they're hostile!"

"Captain, this is Samus Aran," she said. "What is the ship's name?"

"I don't know that!" the captain bellowed. "Who do you think I am?"

"Hail them. I sent a distress call to the Galactic Federation. If it's any of their ships, it's a friendly."

The captain paused for several seconds, then replied, "It's the _G.F.S. Olympus_." He sighed.  
At least I don't have to shoot them. Get back here."

"When is debriefing?" she asked.

"I think it can hold off until tomorrow," the captain replied. "Just remember what happened."

"That won't be hard." She breathed a sigh of relief, and took off her helmet as the ship's cargo bulkhead closed, sealing off the hold. "I've had enough fun for one day. The combat I can handle. But Chief's ego is something to be reckoned with."

"A word of advice:" said Anton, "shut your yap. If you don't sit well with Chief, you don't sit well with Captain, and therefore you don't sit well with the Space Command. You'd be better off dead."

"Fine," she said under her breath. She rested her head on the seatback and closed her eyes, spending the rest of the flight in silence.

Finally the Pelican entered the hangar and lurched to a stop. She opened her eyes and debarked with Anton. "For the record," he said, "I think Chief could use a straightening out. And some ibuprofen to shrink that swollen ego."

"I need some sleep," she said as she reached the entrance to the docking bay where her ship was being held. "Will you let me get that, or will you bug me for the rest of the day?"

"Just let me give you something."

She groaned. "All right, what is it?"

He opened his satchel and produced a small blue flower. "I saw this while we were running from the firestorm, and it reminded me of you, so I picked it for you. That's why I was a bit late getting to the rendezvous for exfil."

She reached out and took the delicate bloom. "You risked your life to pick a tiny flower for me?"

"I sensed that you weren't feeling quite right about something, so I did something that I thought would cheer you up."

"I… Thank you, Anton. It did just that." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, and turned and walked to her ship. She held the flower to her nose and sniffed it. The fragrance was sweet and exotic; quite pleasing to her.

She didn't know what to say about it; it was by far the sweetest thing a man had ever done for her, and she didn't even know what to think of it. It was already quite obvious that he had feelings for her, but this sealed the deal. Once again the painful teenage memory entered her mind, but this time she shut it out. "He may not be so bad after all," she whispered, and she entered her ship with a smile.


	7. Not a Word

Samus sat up in bed. Her head pounded, and so did her heart. The nightmare played itself over and over again in her mind, unrelenting for even a mere moment. Even now that she was awake, she could not strike the memory from her head, and in her mind she was transported back to the Chozo colony where she was raised.

She was sixteen years old, and already a revered warrior among her peers. But her skill with a weapon didn't hide the fact that she was, in fact, a girl. She one day discovered that a friend of hers was considerably fond of her, and she immediately sought to investigate it. Finally, after a few weeks of fervent searching, she discovered that her admirer was none other than Ta'zo, a fellow warrior that she had long been infatuated with.

They began to get to know each other better, and developed a strong relationship that quickly blossomed into love. No other Chozo saw his way, and naturally none saw her way either, but they didn't let that get between them. Then one day she received the news that he was killed by a primal Reptilicus while on a peacekeeping mission to Bryyo.

This threw her headlong into a wall of depression, and her peers didn't seem to see that her entire world had been destroyed. She tried to remain strong, but finally she reached her wit's end and broke down in sobs.

A sagacious elder came up to her, and she expected him to lecture her on the disadvantages of losing control of her emotions, but instead he asked tenderly, "What is wrong, my child?"

"Ta'zo is dead," she wept, "nobody will sympathize with me, and I don't want to be weak, but I have nothing to do but grieve."

"Who told you that grief is a sign of weakness?" he asked.

Nobody had told her explicitly, but she was a warrior, and warriors never showed their softer side; they were always calm and collected, never letting anything faze them. "It is implicit," she explained.

"Not at all," he replied. "You suffered a terrible loss and you have a right to grieve."

"None of the other warriors act like this."

"The other warriors have hardened their hearts. They choose to remain individual. You, on the other hand, allowed yourself to feel love, which will bring you a peace that many other warriors will never experience—a peace that they do not want."

"Why not?" she wondered.

"Love means risk. When you love somebody, you risk losing them to death or other tragedy. Your choice to love Ta'zo made you much stronger than many of your peers; you were willing to take the risk."

The scene faded from her vision once again, and she rolled over, pulling the covers close. She didn't want to become attached to Anton, because she would inevitably lose him, whether he be claimed by the test of time or by a bullet.

She glanced at the clock and found that it read 2347. She had almost an entire night of sleep ahead of her, but she didn't want it for fear she might lose Ta'zo once again in her dreams. "Computer," she said, "remind me tomorrow morning that I'm going to debriefing. And if I'm asleep, wake me."

"Yes, Samus," the computer said. After a pause, it announced, "One Cortana wants to speak with you."

"Go ahead," she sighed. "What is it, Cortana?"

"I noticed you were awake," the AI replied, "and I have something I need to tell you."

"Go ahead."

"First of all, I'd like to say that ever since you showed up, Chief is a completely different person."

"How so?"

"He's preoccupied all the time, even distracted. And he's actually speaking."

"What do you mean?"

"Usually he says something only when something needs to be said. Whenever you're around, however, he's fairly talkative. To tell you the truth, I wish I had the old Chief."

"I can't help it if you're jealous."

"Samus, you've got to understand something: I'm an AI construct. I don't experience emotions the same as you. But I do know logic. And his infatuation with you is jeopardizing the entire mission."

Samus sighed. "I know exactly what you mean. It's driving me mad, too."

"I bet you're wondering what this is all about. Chief hasn't given you many details about the original mission, so I thought I'd come here to enlighten you.

"A few months ago, we received intel that the Covenant had stumbled upon a race that could lend some insight into the past. This race, called the Chozo, supposedly existed alongside the Forerunners."

"Who are the Forerunners?" Samus asked.

"The Forerunners," Cortana continued, "were the race that created the Halos, weapons of mass destruction on a grand scale. The Halos were designed to keep under control a race of beings called the Flood. You've heard Chief talk about them.

"The Flood are a parasite. They feed on the living and feed on the dead, possessing the corpses of fallen sentients. We still don't understand a lot about them, especially since they're impossible to study. They multiply like the Ebola virus and are just as contagious.

"The Halos suppress the Flood by destroying all sentient life within their blast radius. Without food, the Flood can't survive and they go dormant. When the Covenant released them on the first Halo, the Flood nearly escaped, but Chief destroyed the Halo by overloading the reactor of a UNSC capital ship, the _Pillar of Autumn_.

"Some time later, a second Halo was encountered. Just the same, the Covenant was trying to activate it. But Chief took care of it with a little bit of help from an unlikely source. That's another story, though." She paused. "Are you still awake?"

"Yeah, I am," Samus replied. "What does this have to do with me?"

"I have no doubt you've been wondering about your parents, the colony, and the Space Pirate attack. I'll tell you more about it, but I have to swear you to secrecy; I could be deactivated for even knowing this information exists.

"Earth Colony K-2L was one of the last jointly funded projects between the Galactic Federation and the UNSC. It is true and widely known that the colony was a major front for chemical research. What was discovered, however, was classified as top secret.

"A brilliant nuclear chemist and friend of your mother's—Annie Bartram by name—had been trying since her college years to have been in the presence of every element in the universe. There was only one problem, though: element one-seventeen didn't exist. So she set out to synthesize it.

"Try as she might, she always hit a dead end. No matter what she did, the specimen she was working with would always skip over that crucial threshold and become either element one-eighteen or one-sixteen.

"She synthesized it by accident while trying to create a synthetic diamond. Her carbon sample was contaminated with a single eyelash. And that protein was what was needed for the reaction to take place. The element that resulted after the explosion decayed to element one-fifteen in a split second, but not before it was analyzed and confirmed to be element one-seventeen."

Samus thought for a moment. "Are you saying that Phazon is organic?"

"Yes."

"Well what happened to Annie Bartram?"

"She was lucky to be alive after the blast. But she relocated after contracting radiation poisoning, taking her infant son Anton with her."

"Wait, is this the same Anton Bartram that I know?"

"None other. The only reason Chief is keeping him on this mission is that he's Annie's son. And I think that's part of the reason he's so obsessed with you—you are the only survivor of the Pirate attack that decimated the colony and ruined everything we worked so hard to accomplish."

Samus sighed. "I still don't get what this has to do with the Flood."

"We believe that Phazon is partly to blame for the Flood's existence. They are an organism that exhibits many symptoms of acute and advanced Phazon sickness, and we believe that they were spawned, in a way, from naturally occurring Phazon."

"I thought you said Phazon was synthetic."

"It is the only element that can be synthesized but is also naturally occurring. Since Bartram's accidental discovery, no other attempts to create it have succeeded. It was a fluke, but it was all that was needed to prove the existence.

"Apparently Phazon cannot be created without being in the presence of other Phazon, which has led us to believe that there is a source somewhere. Exactly where it is or how it got there, we don't know and probably never will, but each lead we follow gives us one more weapon to defeat the Covenant."

"And I'm after the Pirates. So since they're working together, I guess we're working together. And I guess we're both after the same thing."

"It would be…advantageous for you to make amends with Chief. You seem to have something against him."

"Yeah," she huffed. "He's got his nose so high in the air that he has to stand on his head just to smell his breakfast. So until he gets over what he's got against me, I'm going to stay just like I am."

"Perhaps if you submitted to following orders…. Just a suggestion."

"Just for the heck of it," she sighed, "I might humor him this once. But I'm just as good as he is. Tell him not to forget that."

"Will do, Samus. Oh, and remember: not a word about what I said. In fact, forget I ever said it."

"All right," she replied with a yawn. "I'll just…act…like it…." She didn't have the strength to finish, and she fell asleep before she could utter another word.

* * *

"Samus," the computer said calmly, "remember you have debriefing today."

"Go away, Mom," she mumbled, pulling the blankets over her head. "I don't want to go to school."

"Samus, wake up."

"No!" she said obstinately.

"You told me to wake you, and I shall complete my program." A high-pitched sound broadcast over the speakers and when it got loud enough her eyes started watering and she had to hold her ears to keep her sanity.

"Shut it off!" she screamed, sitting bolt upright. When the noise finally stopped she fell back onto her bed and moaned.

"Where's the fire?" Anton exclaimed from the hangar bay. "Samus, did you hear that alarm?"

"That wasn't an alarm," she groaned. "That was my stupid computer."

He appeared I her doorway. "Well we've got debriefing anyway. So get up!"

"If you'll get out so that I can get dressed," she pressed, "I'll follow you there in a second."

"Just hurry," he said, but she pushed a button and her bedroom door slid closed.

Once she'd put on the clothes he had given her earlier, she opened the door again and found him leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed. "Sorry for being so short," she sighed. "I had a rough night."

"You'll get used to it," he replied. "Now come on!"

She followed him to the briefing room, and found Leigh and Davies already there, as well as Capt. Morrison and Chief, both of whom stood at the front of the room. Cortana was projected as a hologram next to him.

"You're late," the Construct said, placing her hands on her hips.

"Sorry," Anton apologized. "My fault. I haven't had my coffee this morning and I'm a bit sluggish."

"Sorry I'm late," said another hologram as he materialized next to Morrison. He had the appearance of a young man in his early twenties, with spiked hair and a relaxed posture.

"Onyx," Cortana chided, "how can you be late when you were programmed to show up?"

"I got sidetracked. Have we started yet?"

"No," Morrison replied. "But we were about to go on without you."

"Well I'm recording, so shall we start?"

"I'm also recording," Cortana noted.

Morrison began, "Okay, each of you give your account of the mission, starting with the greenhorns. Samus, you first."

She tried to remember every detail of the operation, but some were too foggy to give. She recounted to the best of her ability, leaving out of course the affectionate gestures Anton had shown. Then she sat and listened to Anton's, Leigh's, Davies's, and finally Chief's, all of them unique.

After the actual relation of events had ended, both Cortana and Onyx pieced together the information and condensed it into two separate summaries which suggested two proposed courses of action.

Onyx's was a more brutish strategy than Cortana's: combine what resources were available to obliterate the base on Lanthana, and therefore eliminate the threats of the Covenant, the Pirates, and the Phazon.

Cortana, on the other hand, banking off the nature of the operation, proposed that the UNSC and the Galactic Federation camp out and wait to see what the Covenant's next move would be.

Leigh, a student of finesse, sided with Cortana, as did a high-spirited Anton and a peace-loving Samus. Chief naturally agreed with her as well; but Davies and Morrison sided with Onyx.

"The sooner we nip this thing in the bud," the captain explained, "the sooner we can go home."

"I don't want to give the Covenant time to build up their resistance again," Davies added. "They're weak in light of the schism of the Elites, but adding the Pirates to their ranks is going to give them a morale boost of sorts, as well as myriad new ranks and technologies."

"Well, I'm the captain here, and I say we trust Onyx here. We've got enough firepower here to take on the base and wipe it out; then we can all go home to our families and crack open the champagne."

Chief lowered his head ever so slightly. Even through his reflective visor, Samus could see that he was not about to ruin the operation. "Actually," he said, "I outrank you by order of the UNSC. You are not going attack unless _I_ tell you to. Besides, you've been outvoted five to three."

Morrison was dumbfounded. He stood for a second, and then shook his head and sighed, "You could have picked a better time to tell me."

"It was the necessity of the moment," Chief replied. "I would have told you earlier, but we got waylaid on Lanthana."

"Well, I'm not one to challenge a superior, so I guess I'll have to surrender command of this vessel to you."

"No need for that, Captain," Cortana explained. "Chief is in charge of the _tactical_ aspect of the mission, as well as the ground ops. You're still in command, though if necessary, he'll have to override you."

"Well I guess that's not as big a blow to the ego as it could have been. All right, I'll have Onyx relay the data to the UNSC. Dismissed." He looked over at Chief. "If that's all right with you."

He nodded.

"Come on, Samus," Anton said, "let's go for coffee."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Okay, you're sheltered or something," he replied. "It's only one of the best drinks in the universe! And they make it right here. None of that nasty swill that you get at the naval bases."

"I guess I'll come," she acquiesced. "Doesn't sound too terribly interesting, but you remedy that."

"Actually," Onyx said, his hologram walking up to them, "I need to speak with Samus for a moment. I hope I'm not stealing her away from you."

"Oh. No, it's fine."

"I'll find it," she assured. "Don't wait for me."

"I'm not making any promises." He smiled mischievously at her. "Just take this hall to your docking bay, and then turn left. It'll take you to the main concourse and all the shops. There's one that's strictly coffee, and it's pretty obvious. That's where I'll be." He left the room in no hurry.

"This way," Onyx beckoned, and she followed him to an adjacent room. "Now that we're alone," he said, "I have a few questions for you."

"First," she said, "I want to know how you can go from room to room like this. It's kind of freaking me out."

He pointed to a holographic projector in the corner of the room. "Now that that's answered, you will answer my questions.

"Cortana was talking to you last night over your radio, which is currently attached to the _Chance's_ PA. Attached to _my_ systems. Naturally, I tried to listen in, but she immediately knew, and she shoved a gigabit encryption wall in my face. By the time I was near to cracking it, she finished talking to you and took down the wall, and then got outta Dodge. I want to know what she said to you."

"Girl talk," she replied.

"You don't lie often," the AI grunted. "If she was worried enough to block me out of my own comm. systems, then there can be only one explanation: whatever she was doing, whatever she was telling you, was illegal."

"What she said is between her and me," she said obstinately. "You have no business knowing it."

"It's probably safe to say that neither does she," he muttered. "I did read the word 'classified' through a hole in the wall, but that's all I got."

"I'll tell you again," she said, stepping closer to his green holographic form. "It's between the two of us and you're not going to find out what was said."

"If you were RAM cells, I'd force my way in and take the data, but I guess you're not. But remember, anything you say onboard this ship could be recorded."

Her eyes widened. Her ship had no doubt recorded the conversation by force of habit. Those records would still be stored in memory, and since the ship was attached to the _Chance's_ systems, Onyx could simply take that record and glean whatever he wanted from it.

"I have to meet Anton for coffee," she said, and she made her way back to the docking bay. At first she walked quickly, but she soon found herself in a full-on sprint. A construct wouldn't take long at all to breach the ship's firewall while it was attached to the network; she didn't have much time at all.

She reached her ship and almost before she got inside yelled, "Computer, sever network connection! Security protocol gamma!"

"Network connection severed," the voice replied apathetically. "Would you like me to shut down the systems?"

"No. Purge radio records from the last twelve hours."

"Purge successful."

"Reconnect with the network."

"Is there something you did not want to be found, Samus?"

"It was top secret information, and Onyx wanted it."

"That information is now lost, then."

"I can't say any more about it. Lock down the ship and encrypt the hard disk. Grant access to me alone."

"Affirmative."

She left the ship behind and made her way down the hall just like Anton had described. Once out of the bleak gray corridors, she found herself standing in the midst of a massive complex in the belly of the _Chance_. Every way she turned she saw shops and kiosks selling everything from weapons to roses. She had no idea where to start searching for Anton.

"You're new," said a friendly crewwoman. "I'm Kate. You are…?"

"Samus," she replied, shaking Kate's hand. "I'm looking for a coffee shop. By any chance can you give me directions?"

"It's at the far end. Come on, I'll show you."

As she followed Kate, she couldn't help but wonder how people managed to get along in such a crowded place; it was like a bustling city.

"I like your hair," Kate said, turning and looking over her shoulder as she walked. "It's blonde like mine. But I totally wish I had long hair like you. I mean, my boyfriend would go nuts over it. But I can't grow it past my shoulder blades. I like your name, too. It's exotic. Is it Greek? Latin?"

"It's a shortening of a Japanese name, Samusu."

"Oh cool. I wish I could learn Japanese." She stopped in her tracks. "Oh…my…God."

"What?"

"It's him."

"It's who?"

"Chief!" she whispered.

Samus looked up to see the familiar green suited soldier standing and talking with another Marine. "Yeah, so?"

"I would kill for a hunk like him." She shuddered. "Nobody sees his face. Well, not _nobody_, but yeah, you get the picture. And his voice is so sexy. When he talks, at least."

"Who's that he's talking to?"

"That's Sergeant Johnson. He's a veteran, let me tell you. He survived two Halos."

"So has Davies."

"Well, Davies got off separate from Sergeant. By himself, no less. But he's…weird. Sergeant, doesn't take crap from anybody. Not even Chief."

"Do you know Anton Bartram?"

"He's a big kid, really. But dang romantic. I hear he gave some girl a flower that he picked on the battlefield." She looked over at Samus. "You're blushing. Oh my God, was that you?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Crazy, isn't it?"

"Oh my…Chief is staring at you."

She looked up and saw straight into the reflective visor. She looked scared, like a deer in the headlights. He was the first to break contact, and when he did she felt a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"What was that?" Kate muttered.

"It's nothing," she replied. "Cortana seems to think he's got it for me."

"Okay, seriously, I am so totally jealous right now."

"Too bad I can't stand him," she sighed satirically. "Oh well."

"The coffee shop's right over there," Kate said, pointing. "Oh look, there's Anton." She waved, and he returned the gesture. "I've got to meet my boyfriend at the pizza place. See ya round."

"Okay," she murmured as Kate walked off. Then she turned around and made her way to the coffee shop, and sat down next to Anton.

"So I see you got to know Kate there," he smiled. "She's a firecracker, let me tell you."

"So you know each other?"

"We've talked. But not much. I know her boyfriend better than her. He is, after all, my roommate."

"Oh, I get it." She looked down at the table. "Did you already drink your coffee?" He shook his head. "I told you not to wait for me!"

"What can I say? I'm not good with orders. Let's get in line."


	8. A Slap in the Face

"And that's when I said, 'Listen, you alien slime, I ain't gonna be your bitch.' And then I blew his head off. Chief, are you listening?"

"Oh, yeah. I am." He wasn't. Even though Sergeant Johnson's stories were thrilling, he was instead focusing on Samus in the background. She'd been through line and gotten herself some coffee, and was about to try it.

The face she made was priceless.

"What are you chuckling at?" Johnson said with a raised eyebrow. He turned around and looked, and then turned back to Chief. "Ah, I see. That new cheesecake we picked up from space. She's pretty, but how does she fight?"

"Like me. But…calmer."

"Calmer? What's that supposed to mean?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

"So Cortana in your head is no substitute for flesh and blood, eh? Well good luck."

"They're just getting coffee. It's not like they're a couple."

"You don't have time for women! We're on a mission here and you ain't gonna jeopardize it."

"I won't."

Johnson laughed heartily. "You keep telling yourself that! I'll see you 'round, metalhead."

As the sergeant walked away, Cortana commented, "He's right, Chief. You can't jeopardize the mission over her."

"Do you know what Onyx wanted earlier?"

"No…why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering. He took her behind closed doors."

"Oh come on, Chief. He's a construct, just like me. It's not like-"

"I know," he cut her off. "It just doesn't seem right."

"Chief," said the captain's voice over the radio, "I need you to come with me to the _Olympus_. Apparently the Galactic Federation doesn't like us holding their star bounty hunter against her will."

"Technically she can leave any time."

"I know that, but they don't. Since you're calling the shots, I need you to give them a binky to suck on so they'll quit riding me."

"Okay."

"Hangar two, shuttle three. Five minutes."

He sauntered down the hallways to hangar two, not a long walk considering his stature and stride, and boarded shuttle three with a minute to spare.

"I appreciate it," Morrison said as the shuttle floated out into space. "I've been on the phone with them since I woke up. They want Samus, and they want her now."

"I'm not much of a speaker, Captain."

"All right, Moses, just tell them that we're together on this and as soon as we're done we'll give her back."

"It's not that simple."

The captain stared. And he stared. And he stared. Finally, he bellowed, "'Not that simple'? We both know she doesn't want to be onboard, and that the Federation wants her back! What's not 'simple' about it?"

"She's fallen for Anton Bartram."

"You don't know that. And are you sure it's Bartram? You've been walking by her hangar an awful lot lately. And Onyx tells me that Cortana says you're attached."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Cortana replied. "He asked why you were acting weird, and I told him."

"Well if she leaves I'll go back to normal," he explained. "It's in my genes."

"We need you normal now," she protested aloud. "Not once she leaves.

"Chief," Morrison grumbled, "we need you at a hundred percent, a hundred percent of the time. If I'm going to have my men fighting alongside you, I can't have you giving preferential treatment to the new girl."

"The first rule of being a soldier is not to fall in love. Because your heart will break if you lose that person and theirs will break if they lose you. I know the drill."

"Well 'drill' that into your thick metal head."

They rode in silence until they reached the Olympus. When they debarked, Chief immediately recognized it as being different. The lighting bore a slight blue hue, and it put him on edge. The crewmen were all dressed in flight suits. And the soldiers looked remarkably like SPARTANs.

"You must be the Master Chief," said a man in uniform. "Welcome aboard my ship. I'm Fleet Admiral Dane." He held out his hand and Chief shook it. "If you'll just follow me this way."

He led them to a conference room and they all sat down. Morrison was the first to speak. "Okay, now that we're here, will you kindly explain what all this is about?"

"Samus Aran is a legend in her own right, gentlemen. Now, it's a totally inaccurate to refer to her as Federation property, but still, we want her back. She obviously doesn't want to be your prisoner."

"She's not with us completely against her will, Admiral," Morrison explained. "We're both after the same thing, and once we get it, you can have her. It only makes sense to band together."

"Let her go first, and then we'll talk."

"Her ship is docked but not clamped down," Chief explained. "She can leave any time."

Dane's face changed. "Then she doesn't know, or she would have left by now."

"She may have become…attached to one of my crewmen."

"Really, now…" he mused. "This could be a problem."

"Admiral, please. It is in the best interests of not only the United Nations Space Command, but also the Galactic Federation that we band together. It concerns us both. And the wellbeing of the entire universe could be at stake."

"What do you mean, Chief?"

"The Space Pirates and the Covenant are trying to unlock the secrets of Phazon, with which you are no doubt familiar. If they succeed, the outcome will be disastrous."

"Are you pulling my leg, Chief?" the admiral said with a raised eyebrow. "As far as I know, the threat of Phazon is under control for the time being."

"The Pirates have given the Covenant a small quantity of both Phazon and Metroids. We have an opportunity to destroy the operation, but we'll need your help."

"Turn Samus over and we'll talk."

"Help us."

They went back and forth for a while, but eventually Chief won the argument. "Okay," said the admiral, "what's the game plan?"

"We're going to raid the base on Lanthana tomorrow," Chief replied. "They don't have any major defenses; it'll be a piece of cake to get in. We're after the Phazon, of course, but also Covenant access codes that will be able to get us into some of their other installations and outposts."

"Are you going to destroy the Phazon, or would the Federation be able to take some for research?"

"I personally have no qualms about whether or not the Phazon is destroyed. The UNSC is worried most about the Covenant teaming with the Pirates."

"It might behoove _us_ to research the Phazon as well," Cortana suggested. "If we could learn some of the secrets of it, maybe we could use it to our advantage. I mined Samus's computer, and I've seen what it can do. If we can somehow harness the element's power, just think of the weapons we could build! When she fought Metroid Prime, her Phazon-charged arm cannon would have penetrated a ship's hull. Think of what that kind of power would be against the Covenant."

"Truthfully, Cortana," Chief said quietly, "I don't want the UNSC to risk corruption. I'm fairly sure we don't have the technology to contain the Phazon. My orders are to keep the Covenant and Pirates from forming an alliance, and to keep the Covenant from integrating Phazon into their weaponry. And that's what I intend to do."

* * *

"So…that bird thing is your dad?" Anton asked as he stared at the picture Samus had put up on her screen.

"No," she laughed. "Well, he was like a father to me. He raised me. Unfortunately this race is now extinct." She brushed away a tear and went to the next photo. "This is his mate, my 'mother'."

"Pretty," he remarked as she went to the next photo.

"This is Norion," she explained. "Has lots of great forests. But it was terraformed."

"Looks a bit like home," he marveled. "Hey, what do you say to a joyride?"

"What do you mean?"

"We'll go steal a fighter and fly a couple of loops. It'll be fun!"

"Or…" She sealed the hatch. "Buckle up."

"What?"

"Strap your ass in that seat. We're breaking free!" She told her computer to open the hangar bay doors, and then punched the throttle. The ship surged forward and out into space. "That was too easy," she commented.

"I heard Chief and Sarge talking. They weren't holding you. And if I don't get back by 2100, they'll have my hide."

"It's only 1300," she said, punching him in the arm. "So where do you want to go?"

"How far is Aether?"

"Too far."

"How about Tallon IV?"

"Off limits, like I said before. They're still cleaning up what's left of it."

"Okay, Zebes?"

"You don't want to go there. Trust me."

"Okay, then where should we go?"

"How about one of your favorite planets," she suggested. "I'll take you to Aether once this is over."

"There's a planet under UNSC control with great beaches…but then we'd be deserting because we'd never want to leave. It's more common than you might expect."

"Okay, I'll take you to my favorite nebula. It's only a couple astro units away. At warp, it'll take around twenty minutes."

She was about to program in the coordinates when Anton saw something through the viewport. "Look!" he said, pointing. "That's one of our shuttles leaving the _Olympus_! What's it doing there?"

"I could hail them."

"Don't!" he cautioned. "They'll make us turn around and go back to the _Chance_! Let's just take off."

"Samus," Admiral Dane greeted over the radio, "have you decided to come back to us?"

"Negative," she replied. "I'm on a joyride."

"You know better," Dane chuckled.

She shook her head. "No, Admiral. I don't." She jammed the throttle forward and flew over the bridge of the _Olympus_, and then set the coordinates and made the jump.

Once in hyperspace, she gave control over to the computer. "I think I'll have to get a coffee machine on my gunship," she chuckled. "The kitchen is too tiny for much else."

"You need fuzzy dice," he thought aloud.

"Fuzzy what?"

He shook his head. "Never mind."

"So what exactly was your shuttle doing on the _Olympus_?"

"No idea," he replied. "Probably some kind of collaboration or something."

"Intruder detected," the computer said in a monotone. "Following at speed, approximately two hundred miles behind."

"Looks like somebody wants us back," she sighed. "Unidentified ship, this is Samus Aran. State your intent in following." No response. "This is Samus Aran. Please respond."

"Warning," the computer whined. "Take evasive action."

The ship lurched and dropped out of hyperspace, and then the other ship joined it. She immediately recognized it as a Pirate vessel. "We've got to get out of here," she said, grabbing the stick and nimbly dodging the attacker's fire. "Where are we?"

"How should I know?" he snapped.

"Use the computer and find out, won't you?"

He went to work as she tried to fly around behind the Pirate ship, but the attacking pilot was far too skilled--especially for a Pirate. "This must be some other hunter after me," she growled. "There are quite a few that I've taken many a bounty from, and I wouldn't put it past some of them to want revenge. And to hijack a Pirate attack ship." She circled around and got a closer look at the hull, and saw, emblazoned in what had to be Pirate blood, Trace's insignia. "Oh crap."

"What is it?" Anton asked.

"Trace. He was probably my biggest threat in the Alimbic cluster. And let me tell you, he is pissed off that I came away from that with all the glory."

"What? Alimbic cluster?"

"It's in the Tetra galaxy. Far away. They had a big monster named Gorea that they locked up, and I defeated it. Trace wanted the Alimbics' Ultimate Power for himself. Naturally, I used it for the greater good and defeated Gorea. He wasn't too happy about it." She jerked the stick sideways and dodged a particularly close plasma bolt. "Trace," she said over the radio, "this is Samus Aran. This is a misunderstanding. Stand down or I will be forced to disable your ship."

"Go ahead and try," the Kriken growled. "But I'm not Trace! He died when Gorea absorbed him. You, on the other hand, have his weapon, which means you defeated him, and therefore I should have vengeance on you."

"What?" Samus said confusedly. "Whoever you are, this is a big mistake. Just think. If I was able to defeat Trace, and Gorea for that matter, what could I do to you?"

"You can die in front of me!" The ship fired another bolt of plasma, which smashed into Samus's gunship's hull.

"Returning fire!" Samus shouted, spinning the ship around and firing a pair of missiles. They impacted the enemy ship but did no visible damage. "Come on!" She fired again, but the Pirate ship's shield absorbed the impact.

"That won't do a bit of good," the Kriken assailant laughed. "I took the liberty of installing several safety precautions. And better weapons."

"Shields at full!" Samus shouted. The computer complied right before the assailant fired. The impact jarred the ship, cracking the windshield. "Dammit!" she said. "Anton, we have to abandon ship!"

"Is there even an escape pod on this thing?"

"It's going to be cozy, but yeah." She shoved him into the pod and dematerialized her suit, storing it in her belt's buffer. She got into the pod and strapped them both in, pounding the button right before the Pirate ship fired a second time. The pod lurched away from the gunship moments before it exploded in a terrific fireball. She cursed the Kriken as he turned and pursued the pod.

"What are we going to do?" Anton wondered.

"Pray," she replied. Moments later, several Federation fighters emerged from hyperspace and hailed her. "This is Samus Aran. I have Anton Bartram with me in the pod, and am requesting assistance! The Pirate ship is piloted by a Kriken bent on revenge. Fire at will!"

"What's happening?" Anton asked.

"You're supposed to be praying! Shut up and wait. Either we die or they call us back." Thirty seconds later, she heard crackling over the radio and felt the pod decelerate.

"Samus, this is Captain Bandura of the Galactic Federation. Target has been destroyed, and we are tractoring you in for transport. Hang in there."

"Your ship," Anton mourned.

"I can get another one. My computer was backed up into a hard drive in my suit. Just in case. It was about time for an upgrade anyway."

"Did you get your suit?"

"Thankfully, yes." There was a thud as the pod coupled with its towing fighter. "Life without my suit...that would be suicide." She felt the slight jolt as they jumped into hyperspace, the inertial dampeners in the pod being not as powerful as the fighter's.

"Can't we unbuckle?" he complained.

"No."

"You're crushing me."

"There is no gravity. I'm weightless."

"Well this is a bit awkward. I don't have anywhere to put my hands that you wouldn't object, and they're going numb."

"Then wake them up when we get back to the _Chance_. Normally this would be a cramped ride for just me. I told you it would get cozy."

"This isn't cozy! It's downright awkward."

"Come on, we're friends here!"

"Friends? I just met you a couple weeks ago. I'm crushing on you more than you're crushing my chest right now. You don't know what it's like for your heart to flutter every time you think of somebody, do you?"

"Yes, I do. He died. I cried. And I got over it."

"Did you get that flower I gave you?"

"Yes, I did. Thank you."

"I didn't come on too strong, did I?"

"Holding my hand back on Lanthana.... Yeah, that was a bit much. But I can see something in you. Something good."

"So you're saying this might work out?"

"We'll have to see. But I'm not as easy as you might think I am. You're going to have to work to land my affections."

They kept squabbling back and forth until the fighter dropped out of hyperspace. Bandura called them over the radio. "We're en route to the _GFS Olympus_. Once we're--"

"You're going back to the _Chance_," Samus replied. "I'm not done over there. There's still something to be done about the Pirates and the Covenant. And we're going to finish it before I head back to the _Olympus_. Tell Admiral Dane, and if he doesn't believe me, I'll hash it out with him personally. Onboard the _Chance_."

"If you say so, Samus." She felt a slight pull as their course changed, and then gravity engaged as they entered the hangar bay.

"Oh my God, now you're really crushing me!" Anton groaned.

"Just wait a few seconds." The fighter set the pod upright in the hangar bay, and once it was gone, Samus elbowed the button that blew the door off. Still belted in, Anton complained that he couldn't feel anything below his waist. She released the harness and they tumbled out of the pod, Anton landing on top of her.

A familiar voice scolded them. "If you wanted to be alone, all you had to do was ask."

"Chief!" Anton gasped. "This isn't what it looks like. And yet I can't get up."

"I've heard that excuse before."

Samus rolled him off and pushed herself to her feet. "Apparently he's paralyzed below the waist for the time being."

"Where's your ship?"

"In a billion little, bitty pieces floating between here and the Sherati Nebula."

"So you're going to stay a while."

"Yeah. And I'm _not_ sleeping in this pod." She glared at Anton. "Or in anybody else's quarters."

"The only room we have left is in the Enlisted Women's quarters."

"Barracks," Anton explained, coughing to disguise his distaste.

"That's fine with me. I don't ask for much." Chief nodded and left. Then she turned to Anton and asked, "If there are barracks onboard, then why do you have your own quarters?"

"Uh, because they ran out of room in the dorm? Hey, the bed's still big enough for two."

"Be lucky I'm not wearing my suit, or this would really hurt." She swung her arm and connected the back of her hand to his face. "Pervert."


End file.
